Empty Space
by Narcolepcy375
Summary: The year is 2018. James T. Kirk is an ordinary guy from a small town. He feels unfulfilled, like he's trapped in the Midwest- trapped on earth. And if these hallucinations continue, they're gonna commit him. The year is also 2276. Spock is entering Pon Farr without a mate. When he tries to bond with Nyota, he finds that he's bonded to another, someone he thought long dead.
1. Prologue

"For those of you who were born in the wrong century"

* * *

_Prologue _

_**Dyer, Esmeralda County, Nevada: July 4, 1996 (Federation Stardate: 1996.50/ Galactic Stardate -298671.0567)**_

_ A small boy a little older than six was running through open desert, kicking up red dust behind his small bare feet. His gait was lopsided. The long white robes that were swaddled around his body were soaking wet and far too large, weighing him down on one side where he'd tossed them to avoid tripping. But, water weight wasn't the only added cargo: an infant was wrapped up in his arms, crying and coughing for air, wrapped only in a yellow shirt sized for an adult male. It wouldn't stop squirming, much to the running boy's chagrin. A few minutes prior, the boys had been underwater, the six-year-old dragging the infant to the surface, out of the mangled wreckage of a large metal ship that was now sinking into the waterhole. The baby had instinctively held its breath, but it was choking on water nonetheless. _

_ "Shut up!" the six-year-old hissed, shaking the infant. It did nothing to stop its crying- of course._

_ The running child was confused and scared, couldn't remember anything before impact with the water, had no idea where they were, who he was, or what planet this was, but he knew he couldn't be seen with the wreckage. It felt dangerous. He could be seen anywhere near the waterhole where they'd crashed, and the wreckage would kill him somehow._

_ The boy reached a long stretch of desert highway, barren on both sides besides some large rocks and the occasional patch of desert brush. He slowed his pace to breathe and tripped over his robes when the ground shook and a loud explosion erupted from behind him. Massive flames kicked up and dust billowed out into a mushroom over the waterhole. The boy turned back to the wreckage, scrambling backwards away from the flying shrapnel. "Dammit!" he cried, the profanity sounding strange in his young voice. He collected the infant again and got back to his feet, his massive white robes now covered in red dirt. _

_ The boy's breath was ragged and the heat was unbearable, the sun practically crackling, but he kept running, clutching the baby to his chest. It would _not. shut. up_. The boy collapsed after running for five more minutes in the heat, the sound of some sort of vehicle approaching from behind was both a comfort and a reason for fear. He simply could not get up again to flee from it._

_**Dyer, Esmeralda County, Nevada: July 4, 1996 (Federation Stardate: 1996.50/ Galactic Stardate -298671.0549))**_

_ "Let's get those wet robes off you," someone was saying when the boy woke. He stared at her with wide eyes, pulling away, frightened, but he couldn't get far. He found himself restrained in the seat of the vehicle, strapped down, breathing heavy again in alarm. "Where are you boys from?" the woman said, pulling her hands away genially back to where she was turned around in her car seat. She didn't want to scare him but he was frightened, clutching the screaming baby tightly to his chest. _

_ "Are you human?" the boy said instead of answering. He didn't know where he was from, so he discarded her question. _

_ "Yes…I'm human. My name's Amanda" she said carefully, brows drawing together, but a patient smile steadily in place. "Why do you ask?"_

_ "And we're…we're human, right?" the boy said hesitantly rather than answering. He was still panting for breath, his mouth dry and hot. "Are we human?"_

_ Amanda raised a brow, gentle smile still present. "Yes, of course we're all human. I don't know what you boys were doing out there, but I saw the explosion all the way from my house. It didn't look like fireworks…" It was the reason she'd driven out into the desert. "I'd like to know what happened to you."_

_ "Me too," the boy said, shifting the baby in his arms. It cried on no matter what he did._

_ Amanda fixed the boy with a look, beginning to understand. Did the boy had amnesia? She wondered how much he could remember. She started the vehicle and put on the air conditioning, wanting to cool her passengers off, not liking the red flush in the child's cheeks. He was dehydrated and probably suffering heat exhaustion. It didn't seem right to offer water, the boy had probably been taught not to take food or drink from strangers, so Amanda just sat behind the wheel, trying to figure out what to do. The police station was just on the edge of town, and she'd found the boys on a long stretch of desert highway with no soul in sight for miles. If their parents had accidentally lost them, there was no way they could've gotten all the way out there without dying of dehydration. Besides, what was that explosion?_

_"I'm taking you two to the police station__," she said after a moment of consideration, speaking over the crying infant. _

_"Police?" the elder boy said, confused._

_So he really had amnesia. And it was some serious amnesia…most young boys knew what Police were. "Men and women who will take care of you two, find your parents and get you where you belong," Amanda explained.__"I know you've probably been told not to trust strangers, I'm sorry for picking you up," she apologized, she started the car, and she began driving down the flat stretch of land. _

_It was probably not politically correct to ask a lost child personal information, but the boy didn't even know he was human. Amanda was too curious not to ask anything. But, the child was too frightened for her to work up the nerve to speak to him, so she gave him some time to calm down and concentrated on the road. The desert rushed by outside the window, flat and red and forbidding, the air rippling with heat. If she hadn't found the boys, they would've died out there... So maybe she was speeding a little bit, but this situation as putting her on edge. A few minutes later, she glanced in the mirror at the boy. "Are you brothers?" Amanda asked as she turned the car into town, finally breaking the silence._

_ The boy looked down at the baby, calm now but still steadily dripping onto her car seat. He honestly wasn't sure, he'd just had the infant in his arms when they'd hit the water, and he'd swam out of the waterhole with it. "Yes," he said nonetheless. They were brothers because he said so. That was that.  
_

_ "He's very cute," Amanda said gently. "I think he might be scared."_

_ "He is," the boy said._

_ She smiled at the surety of the six-year-old's diagnosis. "I'm sure there's people out there going out of their minds looking for you."_

_ "Where?" the boy said naively. _

_ Amanda smiled at him again through the mirror, driving quickly but carefully since she didn't have a child seat. "The police will help you find where. Do you two have names?"_

_ "Names?"_

_ "What do you call each other?" Amanda clarified. _

_ The boy stared out the window in a trance, really concentrating on her question since he'd been asking himself the same thing since he'd woken up underwater. Something was there. Something was on the edge of his tongue, something old and instinctive, from another life. He couldn't tell what it was or what it meant, but it was there, and he spoke, barely a whisper and it came out shocked. "Dammit, Jim..."_

_ Amanda's eyebrows shot up at the six-year-old's profanity, really starting to wonder who these boys' parents were- that they were running from an explosion in the middle of a desert and using words like 'damn', but it wasn't her place to address foul language in someone else's kid. "Jim?" she repeated instead, "Your name's Jim?"_

_ "No," the boy said, his dazed stare drifting down to the infant in his arms which was making noises somewhere between whimpers and mewls now. His wet brown hair dripped down onto the baby, but it didn't seem to care. "I'm not Jim."_

_ "Your brother?"_

_ The boy looked up at her, taken aback like she'd accused him of something, pursing his lips childishly. She took that as confirmation to her question. So, the baby's name was Jim. "I get carsick," the boy mentioned bitterly, back to ignoring her questions. And, he remained silent for the rest of the ride to the police station. She tried to coax him into talking several times, but he resisted, giving her clipped avoidant answers that usually didn't even address her questions. _

_ Amanda dropped the boys off with the police, filling out a report as an officer tried to get the little boy out of his damp robes and take the infant from his arms. There was a lot of screaming and profanity involved and the officers looked more than a little agitated. "No, he's mine!" the little boy was screeching. "You can't, he's mine!"_

_ "What will happen to them?" Amanda said curiously as the boy struggled with the officers, watching Marshal Leeson typing on the computer. _

_ The Marshal just turned in her chair and clicked a pen for Amanda to sign the forms with, "We'll check all recently-filed missing child reports and see if they match any descriptions. If not, the boys will be filed as neglected and we'll put them into child protective services. They'll find them a day home or foster care."_

_ Amanda frowned, looking over to the boys who were now being outfitted in clean clothes by a deputy. The man was checking over the tags of their clothes, looking for names. It seemed he couldn't get names out of them either. "Will they be able to stay together?" she said, worrying with her lip._

_ "It's hard to say…" the Marshal admitted. "It all depends on if there's openings at local facilities. If their legal parents claim them, they'll stay together with them unless we find a legal way to press charges for neglect- which I'd really like to in this case," she added bitterly. "It's hard to say anything for sure right now, but we'll keep you posted."_

_ "Thank you…" Amanda said gratefully, picking up the clip board, but lingering at the desk._

_ "You did the right thing, Ms. Grayson," Marshal Leeson said reassuringly, fixing the stiff collar of her uniform. "Whoever those kids belonged to probably left them out in the desert. They'll get better treatment somewhere else."_

_ Amanda sat down to finish filling out the forms to release herself from liability for the children. She listened to the officers' conversations as she wrote. "These little insignias, what do you think they mean?" the deputy trying to dress them was saying. He'd given the brunette boy a cup of water and gotten the dirty white robes off him, leaving him in a massive blue shirt similar to the yellow one wrapped around the baby. When he'd un-swaddled Jim from the yellow cloth, he'd stopped to pick off a rounded metal triangle from the shirt, cradling the infant in one arm_

_ An officer helping him with the little boy stopped to study the symbol with him. "The blue shirt has one too, but it's got a different symbol in it…" he noted, turning over the metal chip. "Leonard H. McCoy- M.D.," he read off, knitting his brows. Amanda looked up at them now, hand going still against her clipboard. The officer looked down at the little boy, "Is that your dad?"_

_ "No! Me, mine," the boy said, grabbing for the metal chip. _

_ The officer placed the chip in the boy's little palm, smiling at him teasingly, "You're a Doctor of Medicine?" he humored him._

_ "Yes, mine," McCoy repeated childishly, clutching the pin to his chest. Amanda smiled, watching the display before exchanging knowing looks with the policemen. _

_ The officer looked over at the deputy with the baby and the yellow shirt. "What's that one say?"_

_ "James T. Kirk- Command."_

* * *

_This whole fic will be based around the concept idea of a Youtube video by Morra Morgenstern__ found here: watch?feature=endscreen&NR=1&v=O2Qc_JHU6Ug. _

_It's obviously slow-build. But, the rating may go up in later chapters. I mean, Spock's eventually going into Pon Farr, there's not much escaping the M. Yes, this is essentially a Pon Farr-fic with a ton of plot around it.  
_


	2. The Start of the End

_For Spock, it began at the death of Vulcan. A strange juxtaposition of the beginning and the end, but it was truly the start nonetheless, despite his lack of awareness._

_..._

**Planet: ****Vulcan (Gregorian date: June 3, 2258/ Federation Stardate: 2258.42 / Galactic Stardate: -55106.64014) **

"The planet's not safe, it has only seconds left-" Spock explained, shouting to the high council, words confirmed by the shaking of the ground beneath all their feet. Rocks began collapsing from above them. "We must evacuate now," Spock insisted.

And they were running. Two or three priests were lost to falling debris in the tunnels, but Spock led everyone out to an open area, the perfect open ledge where the Enterprise could lock onto his signal and track the lifeforms around him. "Spock to Enterprise: take us back now!" he shouted, trembling beyond sensibility.

Massive sinkholes were opening up around the ledge. This space had once been an open patch of desert, now it looked more like a centuries-old canyon. The energize wasn't starting. The panic was evident in the faces of the five elders; they all saw it, their planet- and they- were going to die. The collapsing ground was hurtling itself down before them, swallowing up the desert and chasing toward them. And, Spock struggled to maintain his composure even though the transport still hadn't begun and the lives of these six Vulcans and the culture of his home were in his hands- and he was failing them…all of them. His eyes locked with his mother for a surreal, intimate moment and she leaned toward him slightly, "It's okay," she said softly, "To be scared."

Light wrapped around her then and the energize began, but the ground took one last gulp and she was falling and he reached out for her but she was falling from his hands- too fast to grab. And Spock froze up, "Mother!" In that moment, Spock was scared and sad and desperate and might as well be human for all the emotion flashing through him; the last thing his human mother would see would be just how human her son was.

Materialization began, and Spock, his father, and the high council were landing on the Enterprise, Spock still reaching for his mother. For a moment, all he got was a ghostly image of her- beautiful, holding, frozen in space…it's an image he knew he'd be haunted by forever. And it faded away from him, evanescing like mist. An image of the last time he'd fail her.

Cadet Kirk stood nearby, mouth agape in what was presumably empathy, unable to say or do anything to make Spock 'feel' better. But, Spock had resumed composure. There was no cheating death. Spock did take a few minutes to move from shock, but when he did, his eyes landed on Kirk. He had characterized the cadet as immature through his academic and behavioral patterns, but now he was his second in command. He and Sulu risked their lives to take the Romulans' drill offline…for nothing, but they were successful nonetheless. So, Kirk was…immature, but adept. Spock noted the upgrade in Kirk's character analysis then headed to the bridge stiffly before his father could address him. If Sarek chose to discuss the death of Vulcan and Spock's mother, Spock may lose composure and he needed his composure now that he was acting Captain. He could not be completely logical about her death…he was not completely Vulcan like Sarek. Repression was the only option.

_"Acting Captain's log. Stardate 2258.42: I have assumed command of the Enterprise._

_We've heard no word from Captain Pike. I have therefore classified him a hostage_

_of the war criminal known as Nero. Nero, who has destroyed my home planet._

_And most of its six billion inhabitants. I estimate no more than ten thousand survived._

_While the essence of our culture has been saved, in the elders who now reside upon_

_this ship... I am now a member of an endangered species."_

**Starship: **_**Enterprise, **_**Location**_**: **_**Neutral Space, (Gregorian date: June 3, 2258/ Federation Stardate: 2258.42 / Galactic Stardate: -55106.64028) **

Adept or not, Commander Kirk was a nuisance on the bridge, insubordinate and overtly obstinate. His wild proposition would have everyone on the ship killed. Despite being well-aware of the severity of their opponent, the origins of the ship in question, and the fortitude of their weaponry- he suggested they overtake the Romulan ship and save Captain Pike. Considering the paternal relationship Pike held to the Cadet, Spock recognized that his first officer's sentimental loyalties may be clouding his judgment and his humans emotions were making him hysterical. Besides, his immaturity was ill-fitted to a position of command, and Pike's favoritism was no grounds to elect a commander. By ejecting him from the ship, Spock regained some peace on the bridge.

He took the opportunity to regain composure and provide solace to the crew- as much as was possible after informing them of the circumstances and the power of their opponent. He personally offered commendations to Doctor McCoy for handling the exile of his friend in a grown-up manner. The doctor seemed ill-suited to a friendship with Cadet Kirk, but when congratulated for his performance, he displayed nothing but faith in Kirk despite the 'Commander's' passionate outbursts.

Spock approached his father then, to check the status of their Vulcan head-count. They both stood straight, hands folded neatly behind their backs. Spock accompanied his father off the bridge, leaving Sulu on the Con as they maintained warp to the Laurentian Quadrent. "Our numbers are few, Spock," Sarek said gravely. "T'Pau has sent out an alert to all planets with known Vulcan populations, requesting a census. We number fewer than five thousand as thus accounted for, and many of our numbers are too old to be candidates for procreation."

It was far fewer than Spock had anticipated and he barely held in a wave of guilt even knowing that the death of Vulcan was not logically his fault. "Have all channels responded to the alert?"

"Yes," Sarek said. "All outposts have been accounted for."

That may leave an odd two thousand Vulcans housed in alien populations outside outposts or colonies. Though, Vulcans were a generally stationary species, so two-thousand may be another ambitiously high estimate. Spock absorbed the information carefully, detaching himself as much as he could.

"Spock," Sarek said again, "T'Pring was not likely among those who survived. We can conclusively deduce that she perished with the planet."

Spock fidgeted only a fraction in response. "Despite her stature, statistically, it would not be logical to expect otherwise," he said, a way of assuring his father that he would not be pained enough to mourn her death.

Sarek inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement of Spock's reasoning. "It is sensible of me, as your father, to remind you of your necessity for a bond. You have approximately 2.8 years until your next Pon Farr." Though it was highly taboo to converse on the subject, Sarek saw a necessity in it now, under these circumstances. And, a logical protectiveness of his offspring would deem it wise to remind Spock not to be reckless with his katra or his body.

"I note the date, thank you for your consideration, Father," Spock replied. "Though you will understand should I choose to meditate through my cycle."

Sarek inclined his head in agreement.

Due to his hybrid physiology, Spock's cycle had proven weaker in magnanimity than the average Vulcan's. Most Vulcans hit Pon Farr around twenty years of age. Spock had hit a bout of emotional turbulence when he reached fourteen years old- similar to Pon Farr, but nowhere near as powerful- more like human male puberty. He'd been able to meditate through the turbulence without participation from a bondmate and without falling into plak tow. Over the next ten years, he'd expected to reach a real Pon Farr, but the next cycle proved weak as well. It hit Spock at the age of 22.4, and from that information, Sarek attempted to formulate the duration of Spock's cycle at 8.4 years. It was a crude estimate considering that hybrids were typically irregular anyway. And, at the age of 28, Spock hardly considered himself to have undergone a Pon Farr at all. It was not a factor he worried over.

So, when he'd joined Starfleet, he'd freed his betrothed to pursue other prospects, though they'd agreed to maintain their bond for meditation purposes until the point that her new mate, Stonn entered pon farr. At which point, T'Pring would bond herself to her new mate for reproductive purposes. To Spock's best knowledge, he would have lost his bondmate to Stonn in 1.43 years if Vulcan had not been destroyed. Relationships, in Spock's experience, were ordeals of strategic choosing, and as a half-blood Vulcan, it was unlikely that he could've provided her with offspring, therefore, he was not the ideal mate.

"I concur, the pragmatic recourse of hastily forging a new bond, in your case, will be to erect walls around your severed bond," his father suggested. Sarek was aware of Spock's lack of reproductive fever. He knew it was unlikely that Pon Farr would pose his son a major challenge even without a bondmate, but he also knew the logical necessity for a bond. Vulcans were a highly telepathic species, isolation within one's own mind could become painful- especially during a cycle of emotional turbulence.

"The bond I held with T'Pring, when it existed, was already encased in similar walls to that which you describe," Spock said in response. "I had not noticed its absence. Therefore, I can conclude that these walls are still intact."

"Indeed," Sarek agreed. "Though, the side-effects of a severed bond may be a heightened emotional responsiveness and a lack of control. Remain cautious and meditate if it becomes necessary."

"I will, Father. Be sure to tend to your own katra."

**Starship: **_**Enterprise, **_**Location**_**: **_**Neutral Space- approaching Laurentian Zone, (Gregorian date: June 3, 2258/ Federation Stardate: 2258.42 / Galactic Stardate: -55106.64276) **

There was supposed to be safety from intruders in warp. So then, how was James T. Kirk back aboard the Enterprise? And who was his companion? Spock stalked up to Kirk with a raised brow.

"Surprise," the Commander said, cheeky.

Ignoring Kirk's instigation, Spock turned on the companion. He was soaking wet and a little giddy. "Are you a Starfleet officer?" Spock demanded.

"Ah, yeah…can I get a towel?" the visitor said offhandedly.

"He's with me," Kirk said, mouth slanted in a smug expression.

"We're travelling at warp- how did you get aboard this ship?"

"You're the genius, you figure it out."

"As Captain of this vessel, I order you to answer the question."

"Well, I'm not telling," Kirk said, once again displaying obstinacy. "Captain," he added as an afterthought. Spock was confounded. Why would someone so willingly do that which had proven unfruitful? "Does that frustrate you?" Kirk said, brows shooting up, and he was off to the races, "Does it make you angry?"

Spock turned his attention on the companion again, "You are not a member of this ship's crew. Under penalty of court martial, I order you to explain to me how you beamed ab-"

"-Don't answer him," Kirk interrupted.

"You will answer me."

"I'd rather not take sides," the companion said, with a notable accent.

"Now what is it about you, Spock? Hm?" Kirk said, tilting his head and inching in closer. "Your planet was just destroyed- your mother murdered…and you're not even upset?" he accused, sounding slightly disappointed, as if he was expecting…no demanding emotions out of a Vulcan. Which was, in itself, highly illogical. Unless…he meant to invoke Starfleet Regulation 619…

That would leave Commander Kirk as acting Captain. Spock would not allow it. "If you are presuming that these experiences in any way impede my ability to command this ship, you are mistaken-"

"And yet you were the one who said fear was necessary for command. D di-did you see that bastard's ship?! Did you see what he did?" Kirk was getting much too close now.

"Yes, of course I did-"

"So, are you afraid or aren't you?"

Spock tensed. He could smell the commander, the scent of snow and smoke from a wood fire. His words were cutting somehow, in a way they shouldn't be from someone as inconsequential as James T. Kirk, yet in a way such words wouldn't be from anyone else, even at a time like this. By attempting to invoke Regulation 619, Kirk was both accusing Spock of being unstable and allowing him to freely express vulnerability- something no one but Uhura had ever offered. Spock was unsure if he welcomed the invitation especially in its evoking, public delivery. "I will not allow you to lecture me on the merits of emotion," he said, voice brusque.

Kirk closed in further, speaking right up to Spock's chin so the Vulcan could feel his breath, hot and humid, "Then why don't you stop me," he encouraged.

Spock blinked, restraining all other reactions, "Step away from me, Mister Kir-"

"What's it like?" the commander said, tilting his head and keeping blue eyes steady on Spock's. "Not to feel? Anger. Or heartbreak. Or the need to stop at _nothing_ to avenge the death of the woman who gave _birth_ to you?"

Spock was fighting a losing battle, trying to hold his emotions back for the sake of dignity. He could feel himself nearing eruption. "-back away-" he said, clipped. The rage was growing…

Kirk moved closer though- somehow. Spitting his words at Spock. "You feel _nothing_! It must not even _compute_ for you! You _never_ loved her!"

Wham!

At first, it was blind fury. At first, something had snapped and it was a flood, pure pleasure in hurting the person who dared to insult his loss, dared to invoke feeling. Then, there was an intimacy in punching Kirk with no restrictions, in letting him have all Spock could give. The commander went to hit back blindly, but Spock was faster, pouring out more of his latent strength for Kirk to see- or rather feel. This wasn't wild, hurt thrashings of a child who couldn't control his anger anymore.

After the first hit- the first physical contact with Jim, Spock was cognizant again. He grabbed Jim by the shirt and threw him back into his clout. Then, it was pure release; it was acceptance of an invitation for expression and submission to another's intent. It was vulnerability, exposure, understanding. Spock knew he'd have to relinquish his Captaincy after this- he knew that's what Jim wanted. This was giving up control, but it wasn't a complete loss of it. It was a controlled descent. Spock was forfeiting, punching Jim down to give in to him. If it was emotions he wanted, he could have them- he could have _all_ of them. Jim's face was already swelling as he stood back up for more, going to attack again, but Spock punched him down, pinning him to the console by the neck, choking the life out of his first officer.

And their eyes met and suddenly they were connected and Spock saw that Jim was the one forfeiting, committing his life to Spock, proving a point to both of them- that Spock was in agony- that he would not destroy anyone if he lost control- that he would not destroy Jim and he would not destroy himself. And Spock saw the trust in Jim's eyes. And he squeezed tighter, fingers tightening around the warm flesh under them, feeling the pulse grow frantic. Spock furiously needed the outlet Jim was offering. He furiously needed the reassurance. And Jim gasped for the air he was being denied, head tilted back in surrender - Spock's frenetic grip growing tighter and tighter and tighter and tight-

"Spock!"

It took a few moments for Spock to realize there were still people watching this exchange. He slowly dropped his choke-hold on Jim's neck, backing away on unstable legs, trying not to look as numb as he felt- yes, _felt_. And he looked over at Jim who was gulping down air, close to collapsing. Despite his brutalized face, his expression wasn't one of spite or hatred…but compassion.

It was reassuring that, whatever had just been going on in Spock's head, whatever understanding he'd sensed between them, it was not something he imagined. It was reassuring in that, Spock was understood by someone, and it was reassuring in that, Spock now trusted Jim to uphold the duties he himself was unsuited for.

Spock looked around at the faces of the stunned crew still staring at him and he felt ashamed of how he must look to them. Especially his father…whose pride in him stemmed from his successful assimilation into Sakurian ideology. This would appear to him, a massive regression to Spock's childhood passions.

Spock straightened his shirt and tried to regain some semblance of dignity, looking to McCoy. "Doctor, I am no longer fit for duty," he reported. "I hereby relinquish my command on the grounds that I have been…emotionally compromised. Please note the time and date in the ship's log."

And with that, Spock retreated, practically running to his quarters. He needed to meditate, to strengthen the walls in his mind. His broken bond must be presenting him with the symptoms his father warned him of. He was emotionally volatile, and he needed to center himself. Though, how he would do that without a home planet to center his katra within, he was not sure.

...

* * *

_ For James Kirk Grayson, it ended the first time he saw daylight. Again, an ironic juxtaposition of the ending coming at the start, but it was truly the end nonetheless, despite his lack of awareness._

_..._

**Riverside, Iowa: September 14, 2008 (Federation Stardate: 2008.70/ Galatic Stardate: -282787.1715)**

Bones deserved better than this. His job at Roy S. Masonry and Concrete didn't pay shit- as Leonard would say, and Jim's brother had been saving for two years to put a down payment on this car. So, it was really not okay that this stranger had chosen to steal the old 1993 Chevy convertible to make a get-away- it was even worse that he chose to steal it with someone in the backseat…it was even _even_ worse that he stole it with James Kirk Grayson still inside.

But, let's backtrack: Jim was stretched out across the backseat, passed out while waiting on his brother to come back to the car. Amanda Grayson (yeah, same nice lady we all know from the boys' dramatic landing), their mom, would be upset if she knew Bones had left his blind twelve-year-old brother unattended in his Chevy, but Jim wouldn't tell on him- Bones had locked the car doors, promised to just be a minute. It had been Jim's idea to come; he'd wanted to go along for the ride. Besides, he was twelve years old- not a child, this was a small town, there really wasn't any reason for Bones to be overtly paranoid and force his blind brother to do more blind-walking than was necessary. It only made sense to stay in the car and wait for Bones to come back out rather than slow him down.

Amanda had sent Leonard to the bank to withdraw some money for the trip down to Georgia. They were going to visit Bones's previous foster parents about a new experimental ophthalmologic treatment- some possible cure for Jim's blindness. His foster father had been a highly-refuted eye-surgeon…and a massive dick- but that was impertinent. The thought of sight was too tantalizing to dismiss, even if the gift was from the hands of a complete asshole.

Jim had ridden in the backseat specifically to sleep there, and he was succeeding at it when he was roused awake by the sound of someone fiddling with the car lock; he just assumed it was his brother and carried on with resting.

The carjacker wouldn't have noticed the pre-teen in the backseat if Jim hadn't spoken up when he peeled out of the parking lot. The car moved quickly, so Jim sat up, "What're you doing, Bones?" he called out, confused. Jim gave it a moment, not really worried that Leonard hadn't responded- Bones was pissy sometimes, it was a fact of life.

He was still not really worried when the erratic driving continued out into the street. "Mom would kill you if she were here with you driving like this- I mean, not that I'm gonna tell on you; I don't care." The car swerved a little and Jim grabbed onto his seat, laughing. "Jeez, this isn't like you!" Jim said, still grinning. He let out a whoop, enjoying the thrill of the ride. He knew he'd never be allowed behind the wheel of a car- for obvious reasons, but he loved the thrill of going fast. "At least turn the radio on," he teased, but he was still met with no response. This continued silence was unusual- he at least deserved a gruff 'damnit, Jim'…and erratic driving was unlike his cautious brother. After a moment he was getting tense and he called out again, "Bones…calm down, you're driving like you just robbed the bank!" But, the car just sped on, "Bones?"

"Shit kid, will you just shut up!"

Red flags immediately went up. "Who the hell are you?!" Jim cried. He scrambled, grabbing onto the seat under his legs, frightened. He did _not_ know that voice…he knew a lot of voices, but this was a stranger. He was being taken by a stranger!

"I'm not kidnapping you, fuck…" the anonymous voice hissed, obviously estranged at the fact that he'd accidentally abducted some little pre-teen. There was a moment of tense silence. Jim could feel the man's eyes on him. "Ah, fuck yes…you're blind 'rnt you?!" the carjacker finally sighed, relieved.

"What?!"

"Shit…I'm not kidnapping you," the carjacker cursed again. Jim was unbuckling and grabbing for the door to get out, "Just…wait kid, wait, I'm pulling over, get out!"

But before he could, a siren was audible somewhere in the distance. Leonard's convertible had slowed briefly to pull over on the highway, but it now swerved back into motion, the rear end of the old Chevy swinging right and left a few times before straightening out. Jim was thrown across the backseat. "Let me out!" he screamed, furious. He scrambled upright on weak arms, but now the driver was caught in a car-chase, running from the cops. It was difficult for Jim to keep his balance when the car was going about a hundred miles an hour.

"Sit down, y'little shit!" the carjacker yelled.

And Jim had already been pissed, but now he was livid. That was the name Bones once said his last foster-father had called him all the time. Speaking about the way that man had treated Leonard made Bones sad and Jim angry, and hearing that triggering phrase, he attacked in blind rage. He grabbed blindly at the hijacker's arm, not quite strong enough to overtake him, but surprising him enough to steer his hand- and the wheel- hard to the right.

The car jerked in the same direction, bouncing into the ditch next to the road and continuing in that direction, whipping off the road and into the flat desert. The police sirens stayed on their tail. The car didn't slow down- it accelerated. The hijacker was trying to get the Chevy turned around, but it had been a dry summer past and he didn't have much traction on the arid dirt.

And, Jim knew the highway they'd been on- he knew the turns they'd taken. This was the road near his house. The one his mother always warned him about- it skirted around a rock quarry. There would be a cliff somewhere soon. Jim realized this then, the next second, the car was spinning; the hijacker was frantically trying to stop. Which could only mean one thing. So, Jim acted, he took his chances, ripping open the car door and leaping into the air for his life.

In the adrenaline, he could see the scene in his head, as if he were living it out through memory, like he'd taken this leap of faith before. He had no visual memory to work with, but he could see the desert, the dirt, see the sun and the horizon, see the dust the car had kicked up. And for the first time, he was seeing-

Thud!

His chest hit the ground first, knocking out his breath- then his face and his legs landed. The air he'd achieved had slowed him down enough to prevent him from breaking anything. Still, the ground was unforgiving, and he was still skidding back about twenty feet with momentum until his legs- up to just past his knees- were hanging over the ledge.

Somewhere behind him, he heard the motor of the car zipping downwards accompanied by a terrified scream. Then a crash…then nothing.

He scrambled blindly back up onto flat ground. And he stood victorious, legs spread to shoulder-width and hands balled into fists. The Iowa wind whipped at his clothes and he could smell the crisp earthen scent of the quarry. And this was James Kirk Grayson standing for the first time in his life. He may be blind, but damn if the kid didn't have swagger.

A moment later, two thuds and the sound of sirens indicated that the police officers were on the scene and one was standing over the young teenager. And Jim could see him in his mind's blind eye, clad in tight black, face covered, a black helmet on his head, tall black boots… "Citizen…what is your name?" the officer demanded.

"My name is James Tiberius Kirk," he said firmly, unexpectedly.

* * *

**-Author's note**

_Okay, so there was a lot of re-capping scenes from the movie in this chapter, and I apologize for that. It's boring to read, I know. I just need to establish what the characters were thinking in those scenes. I'm using them as part of the story. Spock just made a mental connection to Kirk, and Jim Kirk "Grayson" just had a flashback...I thought it was kinda important._


	3. Stop Mothering Me

_**Author's note- **Three quick warnings. _

_1. Pay attention to the headings of the date and location. I'm on two separate timelines, but I'll be going in order of events for each timeline, just know which one you're reading, future or present. I'll keep them divided by a line. This chapter in particular jumps back and forth._

_2. This story will be long. When I say long, I mean novel-sized. I'm talking upwards of 200,000 words at least. But, hopefully it'll be worth it. If I do this right, this story will have you laughing and crying and scarfing ice cream floats on hard liquor. Just gimme some time to really get the plot going. _

_3. The rating will go up eventually. There will be sex. Between multiple parties. Just not for awhile._

_Now, with no further adieu..._

* * *

...

**Riverside, Iowa: September 14, 2008 (Federation Stardate: 2008.70/ Galatic Stardate: -282787.1725)**

"HE DID WHAT?!" Really, there was no other reasonable way to respond to this kind of news…

"Your brother's alive and perfectly fine," the officer assured, inclining his head slightly. "But, yes…I'm afraid your car is lost. I hope you have insurance."

"Not damn near enough…" Bones muttered. He was going to throttle that boy- or at least want to really bad.

The officer led Bones out to a cop car and guided him into the back seat. Jim was already buckled in, his red coat set in the middle seat- covered in dust. He was just _sitting _there, looking all damn innocent. And, Bones tried to be mature about it, but this was just the last straw. "Damnit, Jim! I'm down ten thousand dollars because of you!"

Jim jumped at the sudden shouting, startled, "Hey, I didn't steal your car!" he said defensively.

"No, but you drove it off a cliff!"

"He would've totaled it anyway…"

"Oh, so then you just killed a man, that's all," Bones huffed sarcastically, indignantly, and he refused to look or speak to Jim for the rest of the car ride to the station. But his words hit Jim hard. The teenager had been so caught up in the rush of having survived the crash, he didn't stop to think that…someone had _died_ because of _him_. He felt sick for the entire car ride to the station. He couldn't help feeling like he'd be punished on some celestial level for this…God would be angry at him…

Well, at least he'd have something to confess this week at church.

Like God, the officers weren't so pleased with the boy either. "The name James Tiberius Kirk is not in the town records," a deputy reported, sitting at a desk as the brothers waited in the lobby.

"Who?" Bones said, eyebrows pinching together in confusion.

Jim hesitated, realizing now that he'd messed up. "Oh…ah, sorry, my name's James Kirk Grayson…"

* * *

…

**Starship: **_**Enterprise**_**, Location: Jouret IV Space (Gregorian Date: January 21, 2261/ Galactic Stardate: -52404.84755)**

"Sulu, lay in a course for Theta Cygni XII."

"Yes, sir," the pilot said, knitting his brows but following orders despite the change in course.

"Sir, we have orders to report to Starbase 204 for supplies," Spock reminded him, turning around from his station. Kirk turned too so they were facing each other down. "The Theta Cygni system is four light years deviation beyond our set course."

"We can get supplies there," Kirk said, smiling dryly and blinking out his frustration. Spock would always be there to question his every move.

Spock tilted his head a little, "Captain, there is no way to know that supplies will be available on Theta Cygni XII. The planet has not made contact with the Federation since 2067. It is not advisable that we rely on the hospitality of an isolationist people."

"Well then, we can take a pit-stop at Ingraham B right next door," Jim said, raising his brows.

"Captain, the Dilithium crystals may not last the distance of 4.821 lightyears added to our intended course."

At this rate, Spock was going to convince the crew to disagree with Kirk's orders. Spock was just doing his job- as always. He didn't mean anything by it. Jim knew that, even if it felt like questioning him was Spock's favorite pastime… It was frustrating after seeing how well his other self and the other Spock had worked together. Was his Spock defective? Or was this his fault? Either way, he wanted that well-oiled machine effect they had on the other timeline.

Jim liked having Spock- and the rest of his crew- on his side with these things, so holding his armrests and looking pointedly towards his first officer, he pressed the ship-wide intercom and turned on his Captain's log. He was only going to explain this once. "Theta Cygni XII is the twelfth planet in the Theta Cygni planetary system- the system we will be approaching in several hours upon my orders." Spock was staring at him expectantly, trustingly, intrigued and Jim smiled at him then. He recognized the subtly of Spock's interest. Yeah, it wasn't that Spock didn't trust the Captain's orders; he just wanted to know what Jim was up to.

Jim turned his seat around to face the helm, all business now. "The Federation has not heard from this planet since 2067. At that time, Theta Cygni XII was already a highly-advanced society with warp-capabilities. They had no quarrel with the Federation, so why would they cut off contact?" he said rhetorically. His crew was watching him avidly. It felt like story-time and the thought made Jim smile a little as he went on. "That same year, a nearby planet in the same system, Beta Portolan, was reportedly found extinct by a Vulcan exploration probe. Vulcan, being earth's first and only interstellar friend at the time, was kind enough to inform earth's early space program of their findings. Earth sent out their own early exploration drones to confirm the findings. And, not only did they confirm the extinction on Beta Portalan, but they also found the cause: a strange neural virus causing mass insanity and death. They also found that the virus had spread to a neighboring inhabited planet: Levinius V."

Kirk got up out of his seat to move around the bridge- he got restless when he talked sometimes. "Now, I know that 2067 was _ages_ ago, these probes were probably tin foil on a pole with a satellite dish super-glued on the top, they prove nothing to us. But you all may remember reading the famous works of the Federation archaeologists that researched Beta Portolan about thirty years ago- my mother was an officer on the team. Their findings confirmed that Beta Portolan was the first planet affected by the virus, and that they spread it to the primitive Levinius V. There were several theories of how the virus was being spread. The most prominent and most plausible one being that the virus controlled the inhabitants of the infected planet and had them construct inter-planetary transportation."

"Ze virus uses ze people as wessels to move to a new planet!" Checkov burst out.

Kirk snapped and pointed at the navigator, "Exactly!" he said, smiling. "I believe Theta Cygni knew this and responded by cutting off trade with her neighboring planets. Now, lucky for us, Levinius V was primitive when it was infected in 2067…I mean, they had indoor plumbing, but they were nowhere near ready to be hoping planets. It would've taken centuries for them to achieve warp-capability. And, this virus…whatever it is- it's smart. It wouldn't kill off the infected population until it would be able to move on to a new planet…"

"Captain," Uhura said, realization coming over her, "That message we received at the Academy-"

"It was reported that Levinius V achieved warp capabilities three years ago," Kirk confirmed. "That would mean that the infection would be ready to move. I've been itching to come out here since I read that report, and two days ago, Starfleet received word from the outpost on Deneva, their sensors indicate that life on Levinius V has become extinct."

Respectful silence settled over the bridge then. Everyone recognized the gravity of the situation now. Two whole planets had been desolated by this virus.

Jim turned to Spock. "A smart virus such as this wouldn't kill off the population until it didn't need it anymore. If the virus had no more use for the planet…it is my firm belief that the neural parasites that claimed Beta Portolan and Levinius V have already infected Theta Cygni XII. If my theory is correct and the path of the infection continues, it will infect Ingraham B next, then Deneva, two highly-advanced, mass-populated planets in the same system- one of which is a federation outpost- an outpost where my mother, my brother, his child, and his wife are all stationed. And, if the theory of _how_ the virus is being spread is true, if it's being carried by starship, Theta Cygni XII will pass the virus almost immediately with how advanced their society must be by now."

Spock stood then, stepping down from his post to join Kirk near the helm, not reaching out to comfort him as a sympathetic human would, but being supportive with just his presence. Jim was grateful. "Then this is a mission to save the populations of three planets, and to save the Captain's family," he summarized.

Jim gave him a small smirk, "Think you're up for it Mr. Spock?"

* * *

…

**Grayson family vehicle- Interstate-24 E: September 14, 2008 (Federation Stardate: 2008.70/ Galatic Stardate: -282787.1725)**

"You told the cops your name was James Tiberius Kirk. What did you expect them to do?!" Amanda said, frustrated. The car was packed up to the brim with their suitcases, snacks for the road, and pillows to sleep on the ride. They'd have to stay in a hotel when they got to Atlanta, but Amanda planned to drive the whole twelve-and-a-half-hour way without stopping to sleep.

"I'm just saying, I shouldn't get in trouble for protecting myself," Jim shot back.

"You lied to the police," Bones said, condescending. They'd been at this conversation for three hours now. He was getting sick of answering this same inquery. "You weren't in trouble for protecting yourself; you were in trouble for lying to them. You told them Jim Tiberius Kirk was your legal name."

"I…I thought it _was_ my name."

Bones stared at him for a moment, "You must've hit your head, boy."

"No, Bones…really, it just came out like that. I was in a rush, maybe I was remembering something. I really thought that was my name."

Bones gave him a withering look. Amanda looked back at her boys in the rear view mirror, exchanging a quick look with her twenty-year old son. Leonard looked back to his little brother, humoring him for a moment. "You thought your name was-" Jim nodded to the oncoming question before he completed it. "You were barely four months old when you would've had that name…there's no way you could've remembered…" Bones drifted off, realizing with who he was talking to, it was entirely possible that Jim remembered somewhere in that super-brain of his. "So, you're thinking that's what the 'T' on that stands for?" Bones was pointing to Jim's chest.

Jim couldn't see it, but he knew what his brother was referring to and he nodded. When Amanda had adopted Jim as an infant, she'd kept the little metal emblem on the yellow shirt the baby was found in. She'd fashioned the metal emblem into a necklace- like a dogtag- and Jim always wore it. Leonard wasn't lucky enough to be immediately adopted by Amanda; he'd been too old for the nursery that Jim was taken to in Nevada. All the Group Homes for children his age were filled in the state, so Child-Protective services moved him to the east coast when a foster home in Georgia offered a spot. Bones didn't have anything from the day he was found, but Amanda had told him what his tag said- Leonard H. McCoy M.D.- it was the reason he was going to school for pre-med…it felt like destiny.

"You think your middle name was Tiberius?" Amanda said, trusting the twelve-year-old completely.

Jim nodded solemnly.

"No, that's the worst!" Bones teased. "That's terrible; you really think your parents hated you enough to name you that?"

"They hated _us_ enough to dump _us_ in the desert!" Jim said, shoving blindly at his older brother.

"You could at least pick a _cool_ emperor…one that wasn't killed by his nephew," Bones continued, grunting at the shove but otherwise ignoring Jim's bitter protest. "A nephew who was Caligula…who was a little shit."

"Language!"

"I didn't _choose_ it!" Jim defended.

Bones laughed then, "Alright then, James Tiberius Kirk-Grayson. Now that's a mouthful, but whatever melts your butter..."

Jim huffed and put in some headphones, knowing they didn't believe him. Bones and Amanda took the silence as invitation to talk about the possibility that Jim really remembered something. They quickly dismissed the possibility. It was just too long ago and Jim had been too young. There was no way he could know.

After awhile the conversation went stagnant and Bones decided to try and relax and take a nap until it was his turn to drive. The thought of going back to Georgia was making McCoy tense, but he didn't let his little brother know that. This was for Jim. He'd come home from college to accompany his mother and his little brother down to Georgia, to support them- no matter how much he didn't like the sound of this experimental program- or who was at the helm of the project.

* * *

…

**Starship: **_**Enterprise, **_**Location: regular orbit over Theta Cygni XII (Gregorian date: January 25, 2261/ Galactic Stardate: -52403.25648)**

Jim received the call that they'd arrived at Theta Cygni when he was still asleep. It was during Delta shift, so most of the senior officers were in their quarters at the time. Jim slept through the call, but Spock retrieved the Captain on his own way to the bridge, knowing that would happen. Kirk pulled on a shirt and some boots while Spock stood at his door and waited for him. They headed out into the hallway outside the officers' quarters, then walked up to the bridge together, discussing theories of what this virus was exactly.

Coming onto the bridge, Kirk's friendly conversation became orders quickly. "Gather a landing party of…um five, five would be enough," he said, writing out a list of officers he wanted to accompany him on his PADD as he walked in. "Engineering, tell Scotty to give the engines a break while we're in orbit. We need to conserve our fuel."

"Yes sir."

"Captain, scanners are showing that the atmosphere of the planet is viable to support our respiration," Spock reported, checking his station quickly. "It contains a protective stratospheric layer similar to earth's ozone. We should have no problems withstanding conditions on the surface."

"Thank you, Mr. Spock. You're coming with me on the landing party," Kirk said, patting Spock's arm in passing him to head to the communications post. "Uhura, you too. I don't know what language they speak down there, but we're about to find out; you've got the best chance of being able to communicate." He held out his PADD to her so she'd plug it in to be recorded in the ship's logs.

"Understood, sir," she said, accepting the tablet.

"And Sulu, I want you and your swords. It's a neuro-virus, we don't want to kill anyone if we can help it, but we'll need people trained in hand-to-hand combat in case we're dealing with zombies. And we'll bring two guards."

"Yes, sir."

"Captain," Uhura said, reading Jim's PADD, "McCoy wants to know if you need anyone from medical to come with us to check this out?"

Jim waved his hand dismissively, "No, not now. This is a virus, let's not risk any medical personnel on a scouting team…we'll record our findings for them to analyze from the safety of the ship."

So, the party was assembled on the teleporter pad, two guards- a female Chameloid and Jim's favorite redshirt, 'Cupcake'- along with Sulu, Uhura, Spock, and Kirk. "Energize," the Captain said, giving Scotty a nod at the con.

The first prominent thing about the surface of the planet was the silence…dead, vast, consuming silence. The landing party arrived in a deserted city street. By the appearance of the place, they'd arrived in Chernobyl in the twentieth century. What were probably once grand skyscrapers were now skeletons of metal structures, all building supplies melted off. Alien vehicles were scattered around the streets, broken glass and pieces of wood and metal littered the ground. Just down the street, the buildings were completely melted- metal framework included. They'd arrived on the outskirts of the critical zone of a high-intensity nuclear attack.

It was sunny outside, the sky had a slightly greenish tint- suggesting a high amount of nitrogen in the atmosphere, but the broken buildings were casting shadows over the streets. "The effect of the virus," Spock observed, eyes roving over the desolation, his voice carrying a long distance in the dead quiet. "This destruction was caused by intelligent lifeforms, not decay."

"They destroyed their own city…" Uhura breathed, holding her phaser out in front of her with both hands.

"Is the planet at war?" Jim proposed.

"Negative, Captain, I believe this was a defensive maneuver against the virus…" Spock replied.

"Quarantine and kill…" Jim muttered, blood running cold at the thought.

Sulu was checking his tricorder, "Captain, the air is irradiated…something nuclear, we should get out of this area." He looked up at Jim for orders. They hadn't brought life support considering Spock's readings on the environment of the surface. They hadn't thought it necessary.

"Agreed," Kirk said and he led the party in running away from the blast zone.

Their steps were loud in the silence and their breathing seemed obnoxious, but they moved quickly, knowing the danger of remaining in an irradiated area…Spock would rather not think about those dangers after watching Jim die of radiation inches away from his hands and not being able to do _anything_ about it... The agony of Jim's passing had been intense- and unexpected. Spock had never felt something as profound emanating from himself; he had never had to deal with such emotions of his own, even when his planet died- which was illogical and disproportionate to the point of being shameful. It would be unwise to deny what was there, even if it made no sense. Spock knew how much he cared for Jim now. But, if he watched Jim's back closely as they ran, it was entirely out of professional concern. _Entirely_.

About a mile later, the cityscape was less damaged and they could see the pure grandeur of the society now. The buildings were coated in a golden foil, some kind of metal that absorbed the light of the planet's sun and converted it to energy. The architecture was rounded, sleek and tall but not imposing, welcoming. Most of the buildings were devoid of any kind of markings to indicate what their purpose was, but one skyscraper caught Jim's eye. It had a familiar flag pinned to the ground level, above a door. Apparently it caught Spock's eye too. "Captain, a Starfleet outpost…" he said curiously.

"I noticed…" Jim breathed, confused.

"I thought Theta Cygni XII hadn't contacted Starfleet since 2067…" Sulu said, bending over to brace his hands on his knees and catch his breath.

"They haven't," Uhura confirmed.

And the party approached the building carefully, phasers raised and set on a high-intensity stun.

* * *

…

**Emory Vision-Lasik, Atlanta, Georgia: September 16, 2010 (Federation Stardate: 2010.70/ Galatic Stardate: -286460.0989)**

"It's a new, revolutionary procedure. A combination of vitrectomy, photocoagulation and gas treatment," Dr. Perkins explained. "We operate within the eye down to the optic nerve and repair the damage at the source. Considering the viral origin of James's blindness, he is the perfect candidate. We couldn't operate on someone born with the defect, but because his blindness stems from physical damage, we think it's reparable- especially at such a young age."

"What are the risks?" Bones said stiffly, sitting in the same room as this man made him want to start swinging fists. He was finally big enough to take that pig down, and now he had to be _friendly_ with him?

"None of the test subjects have shown any adverse effects so far."

"How many test sub-"

"Sounds great!" Jim said immediately, interrupting Bones before he couldn't continue protesting- he didn't want that to ruin his chances of having this procedure.

"I thought you'd be interested," Dr. Perkins said pleasantly to the young teen. Bones narrowed his eyes at the man, remembering him for what he was, an abusive, angry, lonely man. "Of course, because of your age, we'll require multiple psychological tests to be sure you'll adjust properly," that abusive, angry, lonely man said gently. "You can consult with your own therapist to fill out these tests. Do you have a therapist, Jim?"

"I do," Jim said, Dr. Evans' voice coming into mind immediately.

"Great, we'll start sending information to them as soon as we can," Perkins replied. He smiled benevolently at Bones who was still gripping the armrests of his chair. "Do you want to join the trial, Jim?"

Before Jim or Bones could respond, "We'll get back to you on that," Amanda said. She folded up the brochure she'd been handed and tucked it into her bag, "Thank you for your consideration, Dr. Perkins…we'll be in contact with you." She shook his hand, smiling that 'I'm being nice' smile. She knew what Perkins put Leonard through…

* * *

…

**Unexpected Starfleet outpost, Theta Cygni XII (Gregorian date: January 25, 2261/ Galactic Stardate: -52403.25648)**

"Mom?! What the hell are you doing here?"

"Jimmy!" Winona Kirk sang, rushing from the pack of Starfleet scientists she was surrounded by, running toward her son enthusiastically and wrapping him in a tight embrace. "Ah, I heard you made Captain! I'm so proud!"

Jim's chest clenched with mortification. Being hugged by his mother was not…dignified. Not in front of his officers- not in front of a team of Starfleet scientists. They just turned away though- probably use to Winona by now. But, a bit of embarrassment wasn't the worst of this. Not only was Jim seeing his _mother_, one of the last people he'd willingly be in contact with, but she was on an infected planet being targeted by a neural virus- and her psyche could _not_ afford any more insanity. "Mom, you were stationed on Deneva, what are you doing on this planet?" he demanded tensely.

"-I'm so sorry I couldn't come to the commendations ceremony," Winona continued, oblivious.

"-Ceremon-_ies_-" Uhura corrected, feeling the sororal need to defend Kirk's pride and help him impress his mother.

"-As an officer, I had to stay at my station on Deneva, but they sent me the feed, I watched it with Georgie-" Mrs. Kirk continued.

"-Mom, this planet's infected, why are you here?!" Jim said again, louder this time.

Winona's smile faded a couple notches. It obviously wasn't the subject she wanted to discuss with the son she hadn't seen since Christmas six years ago. Fine. Down to business then. She couldn't believe she'd sacrificed her girlish figure for a son who couldn't even hug her back. "The planet made contact with our Starbase a few months ago to report a violation of their buffer zone treaty. A starship entered Cygnian airspace-"

"From Levinius V," Kirk finished for her.

"Yes," said, eyeing him suspiciously. "How'd you know that?"

"Levinius V's been desolated. We're here about the neural virus," Jim said seriously. "Mom, why are you here? Why's the Federation here?"

Winona pouted at the professional turn her son was taking. She'd never seen him this serious about _anything_ and it wasn't the most welcomed conversation at the time. "I told you, Jimmy, the Cygnians wanted your brother and I-"

"Shit, George is _here_?!" The Kirks were supposed to be safe on Deneva!

"-to come in as Starfleet officials and arbitrate when the Levinians encroached on the treaty and entered Theta Cygni XII airspace." Winona gave her son a withering look that screamed 'duh your brother's here, he actually talks to me'. Yes. After six years, Jim could still read that look. "But…there haven't been communications. We haven't been able to formally contact Starfleet. HQ doesn't know about the virus…how did you know to come here?"

"I told you, Levinius V has been wiped out," Jim repeated gravely, expecting his mother to understand how he'd know that was a beacon for help.

"It was the Captain's belief that, the death of life on Levinius V was an indication that the virus had spread and no longer necessitated the planet's population," Spock elaborated, hands locked behind his back, addressing Winona respectfully despite the obvious tension between Jim and his mother. "Meaning, and confirmed by the Captain's dependable logic, this planet has been infected."

Jim beamed at Spock. 'Dependable logic'…that was practically a compliment.

"Yeah, tell me something I don't know," Winona said, eyeing her son's dorky grin and the Vulcan it was aimed at. Jim could not be that hopeless, could he? A _Vulcan_? "We didn't expect the virus to hit so hard when we got here," she said. "Neither did the natives that hailed us. All communications have been cut off to protect Ingraham B from being infected; the natives have bombed all space travel centers and all affected areas. They want to stop it just as much as we do. We've been stranded here for two months. They're all really sorry about it, they won't stop apologizing for it, but everyone here knows why we can't leave."

"What research have you gathered concerning the virus?" Spock asked.

Winona raised a brow at the Vulcan before grabbing Jim's arm again, "Come with me."

* * *

…

**Comfort Inn, Atlanta, Georgia: September 16, 2008 (Federation Stardate: 2008.70/ Galatic Stardate: -286460.0989)**

Amanda was asleep; the boys didn't want to wake her, so they sat outside to talk in the hallway next to the window overlooking the city. "I don't like it, Jim…" Bones whispered seriously.

"You just don't like _him_."

"Well, yeah that's true, but that doesn't mean I'm biased here," Bones defended. He curled his knees in on the carpeted floor where he was seated, putting a hand on Jim's arm, "There's just not enough evidence behind this miracle cure. It's only been out for a year…"

"What do you want me to do, wait until its perfect? Medicine's never without risks…you _always_ say that," Jim reasoned. "There're side-effects to the oldest treatments in the book."

"Jim, Perkins said that 'none of the patients have shown any adverse effects so far'. When he says that, all it says to me is that it's too early to tell how it affects people… He just wants to get his name in the medical journals as the guy who cured blindness." He gave his brother a pleading look, knowing Jim wouldn't see it. "If that man were running for office, he'd be hell-bent for election…"

Jim scrunched his nose, "Bones, no metaphors!"

Leonard put both hands on his brother's shoulders now, shaking him a little and pleading, "Jim, mom's gonna give you the choice in this. Please, don't do this. Just…wait."

Jim carefully removed the familiar hands from his person, "When you're a licensed doctor, I'll let you make these decisions, you can slice me open however you please. But, right now, this is my opportunity." He stood up. "I'm not letting it slip by."


	4. Vulcan-Obtunded

**Author's note**: _This chapter is a monster. In itself, it's almost the same length as the entire rest of the story. For that, I am sorry. If you'd rather just skip over it, please leave a review on this chapter that just says "Summarize" and (as long as you're not anonymous) I'll reply with a 1-2 paragraph synopsis of what happens so you'll still understand the storyline if you don't read this, but if you do that, you won't get the full effect of my literary genius. I considered cutting this into 2-3 chapters, but there're parallels in here that I was afraid readers wouldn't catch if I split them apart. I'm half-afraid you won't catch them all even with them in one chapter...  
_

_So yeah. Monster. Synopsis. Review. Read on. I'm sorry. You're welcome._

* * *

**Unexpected Starfleet outpost, Theta Cygni XII (Gregorian date: January 25, 2261/ Galactic Stardate: -52403.25648)**

"This is it," Jim deadpanned, not believing his mother could be so inept. "You've been here two months and this is all your team's gathered…"

"Damnit, Jim, they're archeologists not biologists," Winona said defensively. "Besides, a band of infected Cygnians came through our last outpost in the city and destroyed the little bit of research we'd gotten…and we lost our test specimens and all our computers. They came on like Gangbusters, went off like We The People."

"What?" Jim said, confused. He turned to Uhura for a translation of his own mothers lingo, and she just shrugged. He shook it off, "Look, mom…a recording of an infected starship pilot yelling _I'm free_ as he drives himself into the sun is interesting, but…it's not much to work with here. We've maybe got days before the virus infects someone and uses the technology here to spread to Ingraham B."

Winona ripped at her hair a little, "I _know_, but we're stranded! The Cygnian's have destroyed our translator systems. They're afraid that, if we get infected, we'll translate the blueprints for their technology and fly off to spread the virus. They already destroyed our ship."

"Captain, if the natives of Theta Cygni XII thought it logical to destroy your mother's Federation ship, it is likely they will make the same judgment of the _Enterprise_," Spock reasoned.

No, Jim would not stand idly by and watch his ship be blown out of the sky to prevent the spread of some virus. "We'll just have to kill the virus before they can make that judgment call," Jim said decisively.

No one on his away team questioned the goal. They'd been working on the _Enterprise _with Jim as Captain for three years now. They were well-aware of his capabilities. They knew he wouldn't suggest they do something he couldn't lead them to do. But, Winona's team of archeologists started laughing at the suggestion until a voice cut them off, "And how do you propose we do that?"

Jim turned and immediately recognized the face. It wasn't one he would forget- no matter how much it changed. "George…" he breathed.

The man stepped out of the crowd of archeologists, having just entered the room and heard the tail end of this conversation. "Wait…Jim?"

"It's me," Jim confirmed, voice cracking with some unnamed emotion…bitterness? Sympathy? Should they hug? This was a reunion… No. George had given up and left him…left him with a dick of a step-father and an absent mother, left him with even more abandonment issues than he'd had before- and there had been well-enough for one man already. George had forced him to grow up so young for himself that he gave up on himself…settled for a 'less than ordinary life'. If Admiral Pike hadn't found him drooling on the ground, James Tiberius Kirk, Captain of the Federation's flagship, would be exactly where George left him- a nobody, swindling his way through life.

"What do you propose?" George repeated, but his tone was entirely different this time, less doubtful, more trusting. As if he believed that if it was really his Jim…maybe there was hope.

And Jim heard his blatant tone shift and he smiled weakly at his brother, glad for it. George might have given up on being a Kirk, but he never gave up on Jim. It was touching in a way. "Well, first I'll have to see this virus up close, y'know? See how it affects its victims."

George stepped into a back room for a moment, leaving both Federation teams to wait as he brought out a holographic map generator, spreading it out on the counter in front of Jim's landing party. The lights dimmed and the hologram cast a greenish-glow over everyone. "Here are the hotzones we've recorded," George explained, pointing to certain red dots on the map. "This building's surrounded by them. The edge of the city's just two blocks that way, and there's really no transition from there straight into jungle. If you want to see the virus up close and personal, just step outside."

"There's no one out there…" Jim said carefully. He didn't doubt his brother or the findings of the research team, but if there were crazy infected Cygnians out there, wouldn't they have run into some on their way here?

"Cygnians are Felinoids. They're typically nocturnal, but even then, there's still some awake during the day," Winona said behind Jim. "At least there were a month ago when we got here, before this exploded in our faces. When it started, the streets went silent during daylight. No, the infected don't come outdoors at all during the day."

The landing party considered this information for a moment. "They seek cover from sunlight…" Spock said slowly, obviously getting something before everyone else. Jim threw him a look.

Realization dawned on the rest of the landing party and Jim spoke up, addressing his brother. "Spock's theory- he's saying…that pilot in the recording mom just showed me, he got free from the virus when he was flying his ship into the sun…maybe the virus is sensitive to sunlight." Kirk turned to Spock to see if he was doing the explanation justice- it seemed pretty obvious now.

"We did observe the streets of the infected regions," Spock said. "We can confirm first-hand that they were vacant. Sensitivity to sunlight would explain both the recording we heard and the reclusive nature of the infected."

George studied his brother doubtfully. "We've been considering that…but we lost our specimens. We have no way of testing it on an actual cell."

"Cell?" Sulu said, speaking up curiously before they could move away from this subject. "You were able to isolate single cells of the virus? Under magnification? Do you have pictures?"

Winona gave the pilot a dismayed look, "You misunderstand…when we say 'cells'…we mean like _giant_ brain cells…like…the size of your head. They attack people and infect them."

Sulu's mouth fell open a little.

"Do you retain pictures?" Spock repeated.

…

* * *

**Emory Vision-Lasik, Atlanta, Georgia: September 25, 2010 (Federation Stardate: 2010.73/ Galactic Stardate -282782.7960)**

"Keep replacing the bandages for about four weeks. Your eyes will be very sensitive to light for another five days or so after they've healed, so you may want to keep a cover on for another week after that," a friendly nurse was saying to Jim as he drifted into consciousness. Her words echoed a little in his head, still foggy with anesthesia, but he nodded nonetheless.

Jim had spent the last two years in intensive therapy sessions spent talking about the procedure and the risks involved. He discussed it every night with Amanda and Bones, trying to persuade his brother to support him despite his history with Dr. Perkins. After about eight months, Amanda had permitted him to begin the preliminary preparation, physically readying his eyes for surgery with various shots and eye-drops. Bones left home for college, and when he did, Amanda and Jim rented a place in Georgia to continue the preliminary treatment- the oral and written psychological evaluations, the physical tests, the behavioral studies. After a year of that, the surgery. Bones had left college to accompany them, though he was still weary of the entire procedure.

The procedure Jim was getting out of now.

He heard Amanda's voice somewhere behind him. "How did it go?" Her voice sounded tense...

"There were a few complications, but we addressed them," the nurse soothed.

"Complications?" -Jim sat up a little then, feeling his stomach lurch- dizzy from the anesthesia. That was Bones! What a funny name now that he thought about it. When did they start calling him _Bones_?

"We repaired the damage to his optic nerve with Dr. Perkins's treatment, but his cornea was also misshapen- probably an effect of the virus disrupting normal growth of his eye. We reshaped it with lasik. That's our specialty here, so he should have perfect vision when he's all healed up."

"Where's my necklace?" Jim said abruptly, hand groping at his neck.

"What?"

"Oh, his necklace, it's here. I have it, honey," Amanda said, gracefully reaching into her purse to fish out the dogtag. "The doctors wanted to take it off you for the surgery." She gently placed the chain in Jim's open palm.

The nurse explained herself. "In case we had to perform lasik- like we did. The metal would've disrupted the laser and it might've interfered with the kind of radiation we were using."

The cool metal was a comfort in Jim's palm, so he clenched his fingers around it and held it next to his chest. He couldn't feel anything above the shoulders right now, and his mind was still hazy and sluggish. He could vaguely make out the nurse telling his mother the same guidelines about the wrapping as she'd given him a few minutes ago.

…For some reason, in the haze of the drugs, he thought he was seeing something again in his mind's eye- a memory with pictures instead of just sounds and smells- images of people he'd never seen, but he knew one was Bones. "How many fingers am'I holdin up?" he said, staring at Jim who didn't respond, just grinned back and lifted three fingers. The other man, a tall, stoic, dark-haired man in a blue shirt and with pointed ears- resembling nothing Jim had ever felt beneath his fingers- was standing right next to Jim's bed, looking at him with a quirked brow. "Captain, are you in pain?" he was saying, voice devoid of the emotions they implied. Jim smiled, a loopy grin. They were such pretty men.

…

* * *

**Unexpected Starfleet outpost, Theta Cygni XII (Gregorian date: January 25, 2261/ Galactic Stardate: -52403.25648)**

"We'll send these up to the Enterprise, but they look pretty useless…" Jim mused, flipping through paper photographs the team had managed to print before the Cygnians destroyed their PADDs and computers. "I mean, you guys couldn't even get the cell open?"

"The thing was damn-near indestructible," George replied gravely. "We tried lasers, knives, pressurized air, acids… nothing worked. It's not life as we know it."

"Do you know where the nest is?" Jim said seriously.

"Why do you need to know?" Winona said, but everyone ignored her.

George turned the map around. "Out in the Jungle, a little ways in…" he pointed to a very specific opening in the forest. "Here."

"That's where the plane from Levinius V crashed," Winona said wearily, trying to explain before George could. "The virus came from there into the heart of the city at first, a mass-flood of them." She was still obviously apprehensive to her son's intentions. "They went through there like Sherman through Georgia. They're fast, they get into the pipes and the air units of buildings and attack when no one expects. And, like George said…they're damn indestructible." If Jim was going to do what she thought he was going to do, she hoped that the description of these monsters would deter him.

"Well we'll see about that," Jim said instead, putting a hand on his hip. "I'll go grab you another…now that we know what to look for."

"I will accompany you," Spock offered.

"Jim-!"

"Thank's Mr. Spock," Jim said, ignoring his mother and patting Spock's shoulder before turning to his crew- effectively shutting down his mom's protest by being professional. He passed the photographs to Cupcake, "Take these up to the Enterprise and give them to McCoy so he can start analyzing. Tell him what we suspect about their sensitivity to light. Sulu, I want you to go back to the bridge and inform them of the possible threat from the Cygnians- give Chekov some help on weapons. Put shields up and get out of orbit if you're fired on."

"With you still on the planet, sir?"

"Just have Scotty beam us down some portable-transwarp-beamie-boxes and wait for us on Deneva, we'll be all set," Jim joked, patting Sulu's arm. When his pilot still looked apprehensive, he squeezed the arm in his hand, "Look, we've got this," he smiled, "Promise. Just keep my baby in the sky."

"Jim!" Winona yelled again, but Kirk was still giving orders- couldn't be bothered. George just grabbed her shoulder and pulled her aside into a back room to give his brother some peace.

"Uhura, Martia, you two have a dangerous job," Jim said. "I want you to go into the city and try to find uninfected Cygnians, if they're out there, they'll have to have an outpost. Communicate with them, see if they've spotted the _Enterprise_- if they haven't, don't alert them of it, tell them you're part of the archeology team here- Martia, you can just shape-shift into one of them…well, once you know what they look like…apparently they look like cat-people." Kirk shrugged and realized he was digressing, but he was so unused to having a Chameloid on board his ship. Until two years ago, the Federation had thought they were mythical…which was when Martia showed up on the _Enterprise_ as a stowaway from the trip Qo'noS to get Khan. She'd been there, halfway through escaping from Klingon prison on Rura Penthe. The Federation granted her full-refuge in exchange for information about the Klingons and her service as a guard. Jim had been against it, but she'd been assigned the _Enterprise_ and he was gonna use her skills while they were available- plus he didn't trust her, wanted to keep her close. "I just need you guys to play diplomats for awhile. If they've spotted the _Enterprise, _try to convince them to give us a few days to cure the virus."

Uhura nodded seriously and Martia just smiled. Spock looked almost visibly uncomfortable at the thought of Uhura's orders and the dangers they would pose to her, but Jim would rather not pay attention to that. Winona was in the middle of a screaming match with George, but they'd thankfully pulled it aside into the other room.

"For those of you remaining on planet, return to this outpost only if you can do so during daylight. If not, stay where you are, stay safe. You have your orders," he said to his people, and he waited for Martia, Sulu, and Cupcake to get outside before he grabbed Uhura's arm. "Watch her…Martia…just, watch her" he said gravely. "I trust you can handle that…"

"Yes, Captain."

She left and Jim turned to Spock. "I'm sorry," he said carefully. Spock just tilted his head inquiring 'what for' without words. "She'll be safe," Jim said, elaborating.

"I was not concerned," Spock denied.

Jim smiled. Of course he was denying being worried for Uhura- worry would be a 'feeling'. Feeling would be unacceptable. "Nonetheless, I apologize for giving your girlfriend the most dangerous job."

"Despite our current arrangement, it would be unfitting to classify Nyota as my-"

"JIM, this is crazier than a rat in a tin shithouse!" Jim and Spock turned, startled. Winona had broken out of the room and George was trying to hold her back. "Didn't you hear what I said about those cells?!" she cried. "They attack you, they infect you, you're in a massive amount of pain, and you die! You can't just waltz into a nest of them!"

There was a beat then, "I can assure you, Commander Kirk, we will not enter the nest by revolving in circles to an allegro triple meter."

There was another beat- in which Jim let that sink in and started snickering at what Spock just said to his mother, and George and Winona just stared blankly, eyes slowly narrowing in incredulity. Then, Winona, "I forbid it!"

"That's too bad, _mom_."

"Oh, don't 'mom' me! I lost your father to this kind of reckless self-sacrifice, I'm not losing-"

"Do _not_ bring dad into this!" Jim said darkly- at relatively the same moment George exclaimed "Mom!"

"I didn't lose your father just to get a son that would throw his life away! I'll guilt-trip you over your father if-"

"-Dad's death was _not_ Jim's fault!" George cut in.

"-If I'm afraid you're going to get yourself killed over-"

"Over the lives of- about twenty-billion people!" Jim shouted, finally raising his voice and it settled over everyone like a visor, changing the air in the room, making it feel darker. There was silence for a moment in which a few of the lingering members of Winona's archeological team stared at Jim and Spock respectfully and Winona and George let their postures sag a little. "Mom," Jim said, pleading now, "If we don't stop this virus here, it will spread. It'll spread fast, and it'll hit Ingraham B and Deneva. You know what kind of destruction it will do there…you know how many lives will be lost. I'm going to save this planet…and I'm going to enjoy doing it."

...

**Outside: Theta Cygni XII, cont.**

They walked to the edge of the city, making comfortable chatter- well, as comfortable as you could with a half-Vulcan. Spock carried a containment box in one hand to transport the cell in, and both men were wearing protective suits and gloves for handling the virus- though it wasn't really proven that they could protect them from the virus. Honestly, they were outfitted just to give Winona some small semblance of comfort. There were only a few hours left of daylight, but the exchange in the Federation outpost had not been lengthy one, so they would have a reasonable amount of time to return to before night settled in and the infected Cygnians would be coming outside.

"I now understand why you liken Doctor McCoy to your mother," Spock noted once they were out of earshot, walking in step with the Captain.

Jim snorted at that. Spock always had an oblivious sense of humor, one based around irony and innocent observations. Jim loved it. It was a good sense of humor. "Damnit, Jim!" he imitated. "The metaphors, the hampering, the overprotective-ness. I swear it's like she trained Bones to be my mother so she wouldn't have to."

Spock stiffened a notch and inclined his head, "It is regrettable that you do not share a close familial bond with your own mother…"

And Jim's crooked grin dropped then. Mothers. Oh yeah…probably not the best subject with Spock. Here he was talking about how badly he got along with his mom to a guy who had lost his in probably the most traumatic way possible. If it were Jim in Spock's place- if it was earth that had been destroyed and Bones that had died, he wouldn't be vertical. At the slightest _mention_ of that kind of loss, he would just drop to the ground. He glanced over at his first officer whose face was stony and serene as usual- if not a bit _more_ than usual. He definitely wasn't relaxed. "It is…" he said after a moment. "It's a shame…" he admitted, and he meant it.

After that one-sidedly awkward exchange, the pair walked in relative silence until they reached the jungle. Then, the cover of the trees made it dark and put Jim increasingly on edge. Those virus 'cells' that he'd seen pictures of…they looked like little jellyfish, flying jellyfish that killed you in the dark… He started walking unconsciously closer to Spock, hands sweating in their protective gloves. "Whoa…do you see that?" Jim said, pointing to a massive ship, broken in half from making impact with the ground- a shipwreck probably months aged, and covered in vines and other flora, a long ways off through the trees and vines.

"If you are referring to the vessel, I do," Spock said patiently but with some sass because did Jim have to ask? Really? It was a huge craft, would be impossible to miss.

They didn't have enough time to walk the distance, so they ran. And running into danger next to Spock was kinda becoming a thing for Jim. It was weird, but he really enjoyed it. Jim had friends before, yeah of course, he knew he was a charming kinda guy. But, friends were just people that shared some beers with you, laughed at your jokes, then left you to find newer, more interesting friends. Spock wasn't just a friend. Spock did none of those things. He followed Jim into the jaws of death. (Granted, Bones did too, and Bones held his head out of the toilet when he was puking, and reminded him not to have sex with Orions, and always cured him when he disregarded his good advice and came back from one-night-flings with STDs. But, Bones never followed Jim knowingly into dangerous situations like this- he was too smart for that. Apparently Spock was not.)

When they reached the wreckage, they realized the true enormity of the ship. It was sunken half-way into the soil, only a small portion of its hull was visible over the ground. From what Jim could see, there were no cells outside the ship. But…this would be the place they would be- this was definitely the nest. "We need to get inside," Jim said, contemplating their options.

From the angle of the ship's crash, it would be hard to get inside without climbing and climbing meant turning their backs to a possible attack. –Plus, from Winona's deficient research, they knew these things were deaf and blind, apparently had only the sense of touch. Jim leaned in towards Spock and pointed at a broken cable attached to a pulley. "See that cord? I'm gonna use it to lower myself in so I don't touch any walls. They may be clinging to the inside, don't wanna chance it. I'll grab a cell and tug on the cable, pull me out when you feel the tug."

"A pragmatic recourse to climbing," Spock agreed. "However, I must insist that I undertake this venture in your stead."

Jim threw him a look, raising his brows inquisitively. "Why, how endearing Mr. Spock, are you being protective of your Captain?"

"Negative, Jim, I'm merely considering the effects of the virus and how they may affect the _Enterprise_ should you be infected."

Jim grabbed the cord, having to stand on a precarious ledge to reach it. "Consider this," he grunted, "It's mind control. I'd rather not have the guy who's three times stronger than me under the influence of a killer-virus's mind control." This should really be obvious. Jim still suspected that Spock was just being protective of him and he smiled at the thought. "If I'm infected, you can take over as Captain until we find a cure. If you're infected, you might snap me like a twig…" He held his hand out for the containment box.

-Which Spock handed over with some hesitation. "Your mother described the effects of the virus including excruciating pain."

"I am aware," Jim said. "But, it's gotta be me, Spock."

"Then, I will needlessly remind you…be careful," Spock implored.

Jim's smile faded to a concerned one. Spock was actually _worried_ for him- rightfully. This was a dangerous mission. And he nodded to his first officer in acknowledgement, thanking him for the concern- it had probably been quite a feat of will for Spock to express worry.

Then Jim got to work, tying a rock-climber's knot around his belt and testing the rope with his weight once before stepping off the ledge and swinging into the middle of the opening, clutching the containment box, hooked to his belt. He hung there for a moment, looking down into the abyss below him anxiously. He could hear them here- the virus cells made a strange clicking noise. And, the symphony of thousands of clicking cells was…absolutely unnerving. He began his descent slowly, carefully. He knew the cells wouldn't be able to hear him or see him, but what if they could smell? Or what if they had- like echolocation or something?

He found them about thirty meters down, pointing his light ahead into the dark as he reached the engine room of this alien ship. The entrance to it was a straight-shot down. The cells must've infected somebody to open an easy exit for them. They were the size of dinner plates, gelatinous, like jellyfish without tentacles. There was no way they could've cut through the metal ship themselves…

Jim took out a pair of tongs to collect one off a reactor unit of some sort, fiddling in the containment box for a moment and losing his grip on the release rope. He slid down about seven feet, yelping in surprise and grabbing the rope harshly in one hand, accidentally undoing the knot harnessing him to the cable. At the same time, there was an eerie "snap" above him and the pulley system was breaking, detaching from its mount.

The rope fwipped through Jim's loose grip for a few meters, and he was falling, but he quickly clenched down on it, split fibers of metal wiring ripping his bare palm open. "Spock!" he shouted, "Grab it!"

But, Spock was already at the pulley box, wrapping the cord around his hand to get a strong hold on it, taking on the Captain's weight with one hand. The rope snapped taut, nearly throwing Jim's grip off it. And Jim was swinging then, hurtling toward a ledge into the darkness. He let go and leapt, airborne for a flash of a moment, arms and legs flailing, mind blanking out for a quick 'ho shit' and he was still in the air and his target flashed in-no out- out of his light and for a moment he couldn't be sure if he'd make it-

He slammed into the wall, catching it right on his chest with a sharp grunt. Then he breathed again, coughing- spluttering and holding on for a moment before he could pull himself up onto the ledge blindly. "I'm in," he yelled up to his first officer, adjusting his light to find himself surrounded by brain cells.

"Have you collected a specimen?" Spock's voice shouted down.

Jim swallowed, "…Working on it…" he keened, breathless and petrified. He still had the containment box, safely strapped to his belt. He lost the tongs though…

So it had to be by hand then-

"Uf!"

"Jim?"

Something was attached to the side of his head, something he'd disturbed when he hit the ledge… and Jim's blood froze in its veins. He didn't move- didn't _breathe_- he felt the creature sting- sharp, potent, hard…

...

**Starship: **_**Enterprise- **_**Location: Regular orbit over Theta Cygni XII- cont.**

"How many fingers am'I holdin up?"

Jim blinked a few times, confused. Bones was staring down at him? He was in the Med Bay? Why? Well, either way he felt _great_. Well…didn't expect that. Wasn't he stung? Where was the "excruciating pain"? Had…had Spock carried him out of the ship? Jim grinned back at the doctor and lifted three numb fingers.

Spock was at Jim's bedside, looking him over with a quirked brow. "Captain, are you in pain?"

Jim smiled, a loopy grin. "Not at all, Mr. Spock," he said dreamily.

"He's euphoric," Bones mused, sending a sharp glare to the Vulcan.

"It seems I miscalculated the effects of the emotional transfer."

"Emotional transf-?! You said you were just going to temporarily re-arrange the parietal lobe to relay synaptic signals from pain sensors away from the brain, not hype him up on dopamine!"

"I did as I claimed I would," Spock confirmed, "Though a removal of all sensory was required to block all the pain. Every sensory nerve was in agony. His mind was still in a great deal of distress even after I removed feeling. Sensing the body's latent pain, I conveyed pleasant memories to his subconscious. Emotional transference is a common side-effect of such a meld."

Bones just shook his head, pushing Jim back onto the bed when he sat up and started poking at things numbly. "How bad was it?" he said curiously. "In there- in Jim's head, in this virus."

"More painful than anything I have ever experienced," Spock answered honestly.

"Well…with all that screaming he did, I'd imagine," Bones mused, "The man's no wimp." He started running his hand through Jim's hair now, keeping him pushed down. "I get why he passed out. With that venom in there, growing that tissue, tearing down his nervous system- latching onto it, ripping it to shreds and replacing it with the virus…it's no wonder the infected lose their minds."

"And control over their own bodies," Spock added. "The Captain can no longer feel physical stimulation. The euphoria from the meld will quickly dissipate, but it would be unwise to allow him on the bridge even then."

Bones hesitated, "Agreed," he said stiffly, hating to agree with the Vulcan, especially when it came to Jim's well-being. "If the virus wants to fly to Ingraham B, infecting the Captain of a starship would be the ticket."

The two men nodded and shared a few words- spoken too low for Jim to overhear, before Spock turned to head back to the bridge. Jim reached out for his sleeve, catching it just in time to get his attention. "Our ship, how's the ship? The Cygnians…"

"Lieutenant Uhura and Martia returned 2.4 hours ago. They have secured us twenty-four hours to formulate a remedy."

"Try sunlight…" he said, tongue not really working properly. Jim dropped Spock's shirt, fingers numb and thick.

...

**Unexpected Outpost: Theta Cygni XII- cont. (one day later- January 26)**

So apparently Jim had broken out of Med Bay and tried to take his ship to Ingraham B…because now he was banned from being aboard the _Enterprise_. Which- while it was the smart thing to do on Spock's part- would simply not be tolerated. Mutinous Vulcan…ejecting him from his own ship a second time. Jim couldn't even _remember_ trying to stage a coup, but evidently he had. And, they could've totally restrained him and tested out the sunlight cure on him.

Now he was back on the planet, just waking up in the Federation outpost with his mother hovering over him, feverishly dabbing a cloth at his head- which he shoved away. "Mom…'m fine-" he grumbled.

Then he paused. Someone was screaming upstairs- a high-pitch wail of agony. He glanced at the ceiling, sitting up on the desk he'd been laid out on- this was _not_ a residential building…it was an office of some sort. "Who…who's been infected?"

"That's Peter…"

"Peter?" Jim repeated, knitting his brows. "Who-?"

"Your nephew."

"I-I have a nephew?" Why was this news to him? Was he really that disconnected from his family? Was he really going to lose the nephew he'd never met?

Winona rung out the cloth into a bowl and set it aside on the floor. "You had three. Peter's the only one holding on. He's twelve, Jimmy," she said sadly, not even bothering to make him feel guilty about not knowing. She was too grief-stricken to make him feel bad- which was definitely a sign of the severity of the circumstances. She never missed a chance to make Jim feel sorry he existed- like he was responsible for her depression. "George is infected too, Jim. So is Aurelan." George, his wife, his son, it was no wonder why Winona looked so desperate.

"What?! What happened?"

"A swarm of the cells came through last night. I…I think you disturbed the nest."

Jim swallowed, and there it was- guilt settling in like lead poisoning. "Where is he?"

"The Cygnians took him and Aurelan away with the boys this morning."

The boys? She'd said that two of the three had died- if they took them away with the dead- "They-they're dead?"

"No, but the Cygnians have taken them to a quarantine with the other infected adults who could threaten to fly out with the virus." She stared at her son for a few tense moments, making it obvious that she suspected him of something. "They wanted to take you. Their sensors said you're infected."

"I…" Jim drifted off. The last few hours had been one massive blur of numbness and euphoria mixed in with unconsciousness. Honestly, if the circumstances were different, Jim would swear he'd taken some kind of mixed drug- the kind he never touched. "I am, I guess."

"You don't look it."

"I mean, I'm not, I…" Wait. That warm, comforting feeling yesterday, Spock standing over his bed, talking with McCoy about the meld. Jim hadn't really understood what they were talking about, but he was starting to get it now. Spock had melded with him to cut off his pain. That was the only reason he wasn't curled up and writhing as they spoke. It was a sweet gesture in its lack of logical necessity and the amount of difficulty it must've posed to the Vulcan. He'd have to thank his first officer later. "I can't feel it. As long as I keep in control of my body, I'm fine."

Winona studied her son again, perturbed. "Before he left," she began slowly, not really letting her suspicion go, but realizing the need to move forward, "George had my team take a few hours to re-configure the radiation lights from the lab upstairs to project high-intensity wavelengths similar to- but stronger than- the sun outside at midday. The pilot in the recording was freed when he got close to the star- too close to escape its gravity. Going outside doesn't kill the virus in infected Cygnians, it just hurts the vessel…so we're guessing you have to use high-intensity. George was going to use himself as a test-subject."

"I'll do it," Jim said immediately. If they had a way to test the cure, they needed to test it now, and he was infected- the perfect subject. He'd failed to collect test specimens for Bones and the Medical crew on the _Enterprise_ to work with. He doubted they'd be getting very far in their research, and his ship only had seven hours left before the Cygnians would shoot it out of the sky.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

...

**Starship: **_**Enterprise**_**, Location: Regular orbit over Theta Cygni XII- cont. **

"Well, I'll be damned- it works, Mr. Spock," Bones said, stabbing at a chunk of tissue with a prong. "High-intensity UVC radiation kills off the brain virus tissue that I removed from Jim." He looked over at the Vulcan's fascinated expression and grinned cockily, "I tested it with a full-color spectrum at first, but I ran some more tests and narrowed it down to this one wavelength. That's the one, and lucky for us, it's not UVB. Unfortunately, UVC wavelengths don't typically break through the atmosphere of a habitable planet...they'd have to be projected to the surface. But, hey- it's something." He sat back in his chair a little, satisfied with his results, "These cells though, I've never seen the beat."

Spock clenched his hands behind his back tightly. So, there was a possible cure for Jim. They'd sent him down to the infected planet just hours before they could've cured him. They would need to beam him up as soon as possible. But, there were still reasons to collect a specimen. "So, we have confirmed that exposure to high-intensity ultra violet C-type radiation will kill the infected tissue, but this is still no cure. Exposing an infected victim would only destroy the nervous tissue that the virus replaced, not reconstruct the lost membrane. Also, we cannot verify that it will destroy the cells at their source. We cannot risk leaving the planet to be scourged in the absence of a form of pesticide."

Bones sighed and slumped back over his work station. "Thanks for that, Spock," he said sarcastically. "It's not perfect yet, but I'm working on it."

Spock's tricorder beeped just then. The Vulcan grabbed it from his belt and flipped it open with a practiced grace. "Spock here."

"_Ah, hello traitor. I just wanted to check in and let you know that my mom's team has rigged up a test trial to see if the sunlight cure works."_

Bones jumped up from his desk and wisked over to take Spock's communicator, "Jim, you're testing it out on a cell?"

"_No, a person."_

Bones exchanged a look with Spock, surprised that Winona was ahead of them. "Set it to UVC rays," he suggested. "It kills the virus tissue."

"_Noted_,_ thanks, Bones. I'll tell her before I go in._"

"Wait, you're testing it on yourself!" Bones snapped immediately. "Are you out of your Vulcan-obtunded mind?!"

"I do not understand, doctor. Commander Kirk is a capable leader and her team consists of a technology specialist. The Captain is in the care of professionals of equal skill to that we could provide here-"

"-Because Jim's mom's about a half-bubble off plumb, Spock!"

"_Look, Spock, we can't necessarily trust that these people are of equal skill, but considering you shot me off my own ship, I'm gonna go ahead and risk it…"_ he drifted off noticeably for a moment, "_…Bones, what the hell does that even mean?"_

"She's crazy, Jim."

Kirk's laughter could be heard on the other side of the communicator and Spock understood where he derived humor from in Bones's claim. It was ironic for McCoy to call Jim's mother crazy after they'd likened them to each other. They had an inside joke.

_"I'll let you know how it goes, Bones_." And Jim hung up.

Bones threw the communicator at Spock's chest and the Vulcan caught it deftly. "Damn idiot!"

…

* * *

**Location: Grayson Residence, Riverside, Iowa: October 31, 2010 (Federation Stardate: 2010.83/ Galactic Stardate -282815.4129) **

Amanda had made Jim wait another week after Dr. Perkins had called to inform them that they could remove the bandages. She hadn't told him that they'd been called. She had this nagging worry that it wasn't going to work. That her little boy, the curious little boy who always picked up bugs and got dirt and rocks under his nails trying to understand the world with just touch alone- that he'd been waiting all month to remove the bandages, and he'd just be as blind as ever. She didn't think she could stand to see the disappointment, so she'd waited seven extra days under some false belief that if they just gave it more time, the treatment would magically have worked.

"I'm ready, mom, c'mon!" Jim said petulantly, standing at the door in his Han Solo costume with his candy basket in one hand, holding Leonard's hand in the other.

Bones, dressed in his traditional skeleton costume (where he got the nickname, of course), was obviously just as apprehensive as she was, and Amanda was grateful for that. But, her adult son was also quite obviously excited too. Which just made this a little bit harder. Bones wanted Jim to see the world as much as Jim wanted to see it. If he couldn't- if it didn't work…this would be such a letdown for _both _of them.

"Turn it on," Jim whined.

"Alright, alright," Amanda said, pumping some pep into her voice and starting up the video camera. She could do this; she could get excited with her boys. What if this _did_ work? There was nothing to say it wouldn't. "We're recording," she announced, smiling.

"Ready, Jim?" Bones said, squeezing his hand before slipping his own from his brother's grip. He touched the wrapping around his head gingerly, "Can I?" Jim just nodded, mouth falling open and tilting his head back in surrender. Whatever happened now, they were all committed to it. And Bones undid the wrapping with surgical precision, with practiced hands- as if he'd been working with medical wrapping his whole life.

Jim grabbed his wrist and removed McCoy's hands before the last layer came off so he could take it down himself. And he did. And it was on camera. Bones and Amanda hadn't seen his eyes for a month, and hopefully those eyes would be seeing them back now. They stayed closed for a moment in apprehension, Jim's mouth still agape.

Then Jim's eyelids fluttered. And he opened his eyes. They immediately locked onto Bones. And Bones could feel the gaze. And he jumped a little, grabbing onto Jim's shoulders. "I can see you.." Then Jim's eyes were watering. "I…I can see…" he breathed.

…

* * *

**Unexpected Starfleet outpost, Theta Cygni XII (Gregorian date: January 26, 2261/ Galactic Stardate: -52403.25648)**

Jim staggered up from the chair. That light had burned. He'd never understood the meaning of the phrase until now. It had burned in his mind and the stars in his eyes wouldn't clear away. He tried to walk forward, but he ran right into a desk. So he gave it a moment to see if his eyes would clear, the back of his head burning with Winona's worried stares. "I'm blind," he said finally, defeated.


	5. Seeing the Light

**Unexpected Starfleet outpost, Theta Cygni XII (Gregorian date: January 26, 2261/ Galactic Stardate: -52403.25648)**

Kirk was blind- he was blind because his mother neglected to take precautionary measures. And he stood still, hand braced against the desk he'd run into, unwilling to try moving again.

He should be furious, he shouldn't be so trusting with her...he really just blamed himself. He knew he had a weak spot when it came to his mother. Ever since he was a child, she'd looked at him sadly like he was his father- like he _should_ be his father. As he grew older and the resemblance became more prevalent, every time someone would say he looked like George Kirk, she'd become distant and sad and she'd stop taking care of herself. And to a child, seeing his mother, someone charged with taking care of him, shut down was scary. Winona saw the resemblance too, and Jim knew how he inadvertently affected her because of it and it hurt him. After four failed marriages, she still wasn't over the boys' father. So Jim did everything in his power to _not_ be like his father. He'd resigned himself to a less-than-ordinary life. But, it wasn't right, he knew he was meant for so much more than that. So, when Pike had come to him offering a chance to do _better_, he thought maybe if he actually could be better than his father, he wouldn't remind Winona of George and she'd be able to look at him as Jim Kirk instead of a failed version of George.

He always wanted to impress her, to earn her trust, so he always trusted her blindly and put himself at risk to meet her goals. He was an excellent judge of character in most instances. He knew he could never die or be seriously hurt as long as he had Spock and McCoy and Scotty and Sulu and his crew on Enterprise. It didn't take him long to trust his life to them, and he'd been right in that judgment. But, despite evidence that he shouldn't, he'd _always_ entrust himself to Winona...he'd done it when she brought him to a colony on Tarsus IV, and he'd done it just now.

Still, however much he blamed himself, he was frustrated with her. And despite knowing that he couldn't be hurt with Bones on board the ship, seeing only darkness in a room he _knew_ was illuminated had him panicking. "I _told_ you to set it to UVC!"

Winona was pacing, lucky only that her son couldn't see her distress. Jim was distressed enough without knowing his mother was also flipping-out. "Damnit, _Jim_, we don't have that much control over wavelength output on this thing, it's foreign, we don't know how to use it!" Her voice cracked a little- no, she needed to control that, Jim could hear that. "I tried I-I told you to look away if it got too bright for you!"

"I didn't _expect_ a full-color-spectrum!" he cried.

"You didn't even close your eyes, Jim!"

"I would've If I'd-"

"Stop! Just Stop it!" A female voice shouted, one of Winona's archeologists, cutting in before things got hysterical. This really wasn't that big a deal, not in 2261. Kirk felt a hand at his belt, removing his tricorder from where it was docked at his hip. He went to grab it, but she already had the device. "Engineering? One to beam up. Send him to medical."

…

* * *

**Location: Grayson Residence, Riverside, Iowa: October 31, 2010 (Federation Stardate: 2010.83/ Galactic Stardate -282815.4129)**

"I can see!" Jim cried. It was bright, so bright! Light, shapes movements all around him, crisp and sharp, detailed and colorful, and Jim lost his balance, overwhelmed. Bones caught him by the arm and stood him upright, holding his arms and looking so overjoyed and apprehensive, Jim wasn't sure how he could read all these emotions on his brother having never seen them. It all just felt so instinctive. Jim grinned back at him, just taking it all in. Even in a skeleton costume, Bones was beautiful. "So…that's what a smile looks like," he breathed.

Bones's eyes darted across Jim's face, studying him and Jim returned the favor. It was like they _both_ were seeing each other for the first time. "Are you okay?"

"Perfect…"

"What's it like?" Amanda said carefully.

Jim turned his gaze on her, smile broadening as he took in the sight of the woman that raised him, the woman that had saved them from the desert and adopted them, reuniting them and keeping them. Jim never had a reference to try and draw up a picture of her in his head, he had no idea what hair and arms and legs and faces were suppose to look like outside what he'd touched and drawn out with his fingers, but damn, he'd tried. He'd made her blonde and pale with blue eyes and, in his head, her gaze saw him like he was someone else and she looked distant, sad...almost disappointed. He didn't know why he'd imagine his mother to look that way, especially when Amanda loved him and Leonard so much and when he knew she had dark hair and eyes- because she'd told him. Of course, she didn't look the same, all her shapes and colors were real and sharp, not something his mind had attempted to draw up without feasible reference. She was darker and beautiful and her gaze held nothing but joy and love...she didn't look at him like he was anyone but himself. She was so much better than the mother he'd imagined. His eyes started to grow wet.

"I-I…I can't describe…"

And then two bodies were embracing him and he saw them coming this time and for that he was crying freely. He buried his face in Bones's shoulder and clung onto Amanda's waist. And they were giggling and Jim felt affectionate hands in his hair and he close his eyes in the comforting knowledge that there would be something to see when he opened them.

When they pulled away enough to let him move, Jim reached to his neck and pulled his dogtag out from under his shirt. He looked down at it wanting to see the little metal insignia. There were markings on it…words. He knew that they said, but not because of what they looked like. And, he laughed a little, sniffling, realizing he'd have to learn how to read written letters now. He looked back up at Bones, taking in the curve of his brow, the dip of his chin and the shape of his nose, the straight lines of his jaw along with the short stubble he'd always laughed at when he'd touched it. Bones had his skeleton mask wrapped around his head, perched on the corner. "I just…I want to see," Jim breathed.

Bones withdrew his hands, "You are seeing…you, you mean you want us to leave you to it?" The plan had been to go trick-or-treating with Jim's new vision since he'd never gotten to see all the costumes like he'd wanted to. But, if Jim just wanted to go around the house and take a look around, they could forget about the festivity.

"No, show me. I wanna see everything…" Jim said, pulling the skeleton's hand toward the door. There was a lot of catching up to do. Jim was a fast learner, but he had a whole new sense of the world now, a very revealing one. All the things he'd ever held in his life. He needed to explore this strange new world.

…

* * *

**Starship: _Enterprise_, Location: Regular orbit over Theta Cygni XII (Gregorian date: January 26, 2261/ Galactic Stardate: -52403.25648)**

"That better?" Bones said, monotone. All Kirks were idiots, weren't they? Jesus Christ.

"I…I can see… Bones, you're a miracle-worker."

"No such thing, Jim. That treatment was patented in 2028 by a Doctor Theodore Perkins," Bones said, holding Jim's head still to shine a light in his eyes and check their focus. He gave a little cocky smile, proud of his job, "Well, not all credit goes to him, I used a cellular accelerator to speed up the healing."

Kirk grabbed Bones's face before he could move away from where he was leaned in to check his eyes, kissing his cheek hard, "Has anyone ever told you you're a beautiful man, Bones?"

"Once or twice," McCoy said, pushing Kirk back on the cot.

"Seriously, I was afraid my mom'd blinded me…she's got enough issues already, I wouldn't want to put blinding her son on her psyche," Kirk said lightly. It was easier to joke about how messed up the Kirks were than it was to really consider it.

"With modern medicine?" Bones said taken aback, insulted but almost laughing at the idea, "You think you'd be permanently blind with me on board this ship?"

"I could kiss you," Jim said, grinning. He'd known he wouldn't be seriously hurt with Bones on board. That knowledge allowed him to be a reckless shit-magnet on a regular occasion. So no, he hadn't thought he'd be permanently blind. But, it was nice to be right as usual. It was nice to not be blind.

"You've done enough."

Kirk smiled, folding his hands over his stomach, fingering at the medical garb he'd been put in for the quick treatment. He still felt absolutely nothing under his fingertips- well, looks like Spock still hadn't put his brain back to normal. It was probably for the best. Kirk didn't have much functioning nervous tissue, they'd have to regenerate what the virus had killed.

His eyes roved over the Med Bay, stopping on a prostrate figure stationed in the corner of the room. Well, think of the devil. Kirk wasn't too surprised to see his first officer waiting for him to blink vision back into his eyes. Spock had been the one to lead him to the medical bay when he'd been transported back aboard. Kirk would've smiled fondly at the thought of the Vulcan's gentle guiding hands...he _would_ have if the Theta Cygni XII-situation was still dire and at their hands. "Spock!" he called, motioning for the Vulcan to come stand by his bed. "How much time do we have till they shoot us down?"

"Three point six nine two-seven hours, Captain."

"Ah, plenty of time," Jim said sarcastically.

"Our tests have proven that the virus is susceptible to Ultra-Violet-C radiation. There are a total of six-hundred satellites orbiting this planet. Mr. Scott confirmed that we can sync our computers to their systems and use them to transmit the radiation at a high intensity to the surface of the planet," Spock said helpfully. It was nice to know that he had a plan of action. Kirk had been hoping there'd be satellites so they wouldn't have to fly the Enterprise over the entire surface of the planet and use of their power.

"So we can cure this?" Kirk said hopefully. "Well…without blinding anyone?"

"UVC radiation's not completely harmless, Jim, but it's not gonna blind anyone," Bones said,"'specially not felineoids."

"However, we have no definitive proof that the wavelength is capable of exterminating the neural virus cells themselves," Spock added. "For that, we would need a specimen to test."

Kirk was about to offer going down to get one when the communicator above his bed beeped with a message from the bridge. "Captain." It was Uhura. Kirk turned his attention to the screen. "We're receiving a call that you should probably come take…"

"Be right up."

...

And he was, walking brusquely on numb jelly-legs, he made the trip quickly and came out onto the bridge with Spock and McCoy. "Who's knocking?" he said curiously.

Uhura looked at Spock then, pointedly. She hesitated a moment, "You…"

Spock's posture stiffened.

"I thought he was on a little mission somewhere in the far reaches of space?" Kirk said into the silence that followed the announcement. At least, that's what they'd been told on New Vulcan when they'd taken the trip down for Spock to meditate through his last Vulcan emotion cycle- thingy. They'd stopped for Spock after he'd started throwing things around and going generally berserk. When they'd asked him what was wrong, he'd been even more tight-lipped than usual. But, because they were ahead of their schedule, they'd had time to stop on the Vulcan settlement and wait for Spock to finish his meditation. While there, Kirk and Bones had met some nice Vulcan ladies and acquainted themselves with the culture a little further- but they had _not_ seen Spock Prime, he was on a mission. "Put him on the screen…" Kirk said, a little perturbed.

The monitor blinked once before Spock Prime's age-worn face came up on the windshield, hands folded neatly under his chin. "Hello, Jim. Greetings, _Enterprise_."

Kirk leaned on the railing, "Spock…you called? Why-"

"You are positioned within the Theta Cygni system," Spock elaborated. "I recall a certain neural virus afflicting the region."

"So, you guys faced this too?" Kirk said, quickly filling in the meaning and becoming interested. "Are you calling to help?"

"I wish to know your progress." Spock Prime said, obviously concerned. It was strange seeing obvious emotion on a Vulcan.

Kirk glanced at his first officer. Spock's older self was curious and sympathetic and completely different and it made his first officer a little tense- probably trepidation at the thought of ever becoming more human-like. "We…we're working on it. Actually, we think we've got a bit of a cure, but we can't use it until we're sure it'll kill the cells, and we're running out of time." Kirk didn't like showing any lack of complete control in front of his bridge, but he needed to ask, "If you guys faced this on your _Enterprise, _can you give us any pointers?"

"You must understand my hesitation to provide what you ask," Spock Prime said carefully. "However, I have complete faith that you will destroy the virus as we did. As your current positions on board the Enterprise would suggest, your timeline is attempting to recover from my interference. Important events from my timeline are occurring in your own, as though the paths are destined for you to live."

"Destined? Vulcans do not believe in destiny," Spock said coldly.

"We believe in what we have seen with reasonable proof," the old Vulcan qualified. "We believe in destinations upon life's path for each of us, outcomes or occupations best suited to the individual. By a human definition, this is destiny. And the _Enterprise_ is destined to cure this virus."

Kirk decided that would be a good time to step in front of his first officer before he could insult himself. He thought that destiny was a load of bullshit spiritual-hoopla, life didn't have a finish-line- it was a do-it-yourself model, but he was interested in what Spock Prime was saying. They had lived these lives before and they were in the exact same occupational positions on the same ship as they were in that other reality. Besides, outside of their own lives and the things they affected, Vulcan, earth, Khan, outside those things, the rest of the universe was operating the way it had in Spock Prime's reality. Some things were bound to be the same between the two timelines. "If you're suggesting that this mission is going to turn out like it did for you, what happened in your reality?" Jim said curiously. "I-I don't mean how did we fix it, I just mean…were there casualties?"

The old Vulcan folded his hands together in front of his chest. "The _Enterprise,_ in my experience, did not encounter the brain cell virus until 2267. You were correct in predicting that it would reach Ingraham B and Deneva on its current course. We were unable to cease the spread of the virus until it reached Deneva. By the time we did, it had claimed the life of your brother, Sam," Spock Prime said, addressing Kirk.

Kirk's chest clenched for a moment. George was infected. What Spock was saying meant he might die from this before they could cure it. He hadn't spoken to his brother since he was fourteen…he was just seeing him again and now Spock was saying he'd die? "Sam? My brother's name is George." If that was different, maybe other things would be too…maybe George would be okay. Bones's hand fell onto Kirk's shoulder, supporting.

"Your brother was always Sam to you, Jim. Your use of his birth name is most probably a bi-product of your father's death, I'm sure," Spock Prime reasoned. "Yes, in my timeline, his death was unavoidable." His expression conveying far more sympathy than Kirk had ever seen on his own Spock. He had to wonder if his own second officer would ever reach that level of expression…

"George and his family are down there on that infected planet," Kirk choked. "He's infected."

"Some things, between our timelines will remain unchanged," Spock Prime said gravely.

"So, you're suggesting that my George being on Theta Cygni XII rather than Deneva is a sign that he's _suppose_ to die from this…like your Jim's Sam?" Kirk demanded.

Spock Prime's eyes softened further, "It is a possibility," he said, resigned. "However, you have intercepted the virus far sooner than we did, therefore, because you were assigned this five-year mission five years prior to when I was with my Jim, you have the opportunity to save the populations of two more planets…and perhaps the life of your brother and his wife."

'_My Jim_'. The phrase hooked onto Kirk's mind and lingered there. 'My Jim…' He'd seen how close he and Spock were in that alternate reality. He'd felt such unadulterated affection for his other self in Spock Prime's mind when they were linked, so much sorrow for his passing, so much adoration for him. It was part of the reason he'd been so eager to mend their relationship after 'emotionally compromising' his timeline's Spock. That friendship- that level of understanding, compatibility, and passion, it was something he never realized he desperately wanted until he saw it between his other self and Spock's other self. It had been too beautiful to even consider possible for him to have.

He glanced at his own timeline's Spock. If 'destiny' existed, would they ever reach that? But then again, if destiny existed, George was in grave danger. Kirk gave a nod of thanks to Spock Prime and cut the communication. "I'm going back to the surface…"

"You're going nowhere but back to bed," Bones said firmly.

"I've already been infected, and we've proven you can cure it. The research team down there needs a specimen to analyze and you need one too. If we can confirm that this works on the cells, we can use those satellites and knock this thing out. We just need to be sure about this one thing, and this is how we do it. I couldn't get them one the first time, but I'm not giving up. They can't do any more harm to me than what's already been done, besides, Spock's still got me feelin like a walking marshmallow."

"Oh no, that dog won't hunt," Bones protested, "Just because you ain't feelin the pain doesn't mean it ain't killin you! You're staying here so we can regenerate your nervous tissue."

"Doctor, the Captain's logic is sound," Spock said, detached. "Gathering a specimen and ascertaining how to destroy the cells may be the only way to devise a permanent cure."

"Damnit, Spock, I know you're a robot, but he's your best friend, can't you pretend to be worried about him?"

"On the contrary, Doctor, I am immensely concerned. 'Pretending to be worried' would be counterproductive in aiding him and protecting this planet's chances of survival."

Kirk grinned and patted Bones's arm, still not feeling a thing under his palm. "See, Bones, let the man be stoic, we like him better that way."

"Maybe _you_ do-"

"I do."

McCoy just shook his head, walking off to the transporter room ahead of the others. "Whatever blows your skirt up," he muttered to himself.

...

* * *

**Author's note**: _I promised myself I wouldn't do author's notes in this fic…oh well_

_ First, I'd like to apologize, this chapter's a bit unfulfilling, I barely addressed Jim Grayson's explorations in his new sight and I didn't resolve the neural virus dilemma. I planned for it to be a bit longer, but I was a bit rushed pumping it out. But hey, a few good things. _

_ You didn't think I'd make Jim Kirk blind, did you? Ha, with Bones on board? Never._

_ This is a courtesy warning, I'm about to go on a trip to Vegas for two weeks and I won't have access to my computer or the internet to update. So, this is the last chapter until August. I just don't want anyone to think this story's going dormant. Quite the contrary, I still have a definitive ending in mind and a pretty good idea how I'm getting there. But, while I'm gone, if you guys have any ideas of story arcs you want to see or characters you'd like to show up, just mention it in a review, I'd love to get some input. _

_ Also, while I'm gone, you guys should go to my Star Trek tumblr: startrekfanmixes and enjoy the music fellow fans have put together. I listen to those mixes while I write, so they kinda set the tone for this story._


	6. Pointy-Eared Prince

_I'm back~ _

_Vegas was nice, but now I've a lot of catching up to do. I promised some people to Read/Review, and I intend to, I just got caught up writing this. It's a long chapter with a lot of back and forth, so pay attention to the headings._

_As usual, this is un-betaed, so all the mistakes are mine and are free game, call them out._

_Also, I made a playlist for this fic on 8tracks if anyone's interested. It's on my StarTrekFanmixes blog on Tumblr. Here's the link to that mix. /cynicide78/empty-space_

_And again, this fic is inspired by a youtube video watch?v=O2Qc_JHU6Ug_

_..._

* * *

**Grayson Residence, Riverside, Iowa: October 31, 2010 (Federation Stardate: 2010.83/ Galactic Stardate -282815.4189)**

Amanda stayed inside, handing Bones flashlights and bags for them to collect candy. She got a few pictures of Bones in his skeleton costume and Jim in his Han Solo one. Jim didn't look at the picture. He didn't want to see what he looked like yet. It would be the greatest surprise and he wanted to wait until he'd been outside first.

The walk over the threshold was shaky. Bones kept a hand on Jim's back, guiding him carefully on the lit-up front porch. Jim kept swaying dizzily, overloaded by the added sensory. He stumbled over his own feet, too caught up in trying to watch where he was placing them, each step feeling like an unexpected stair at the bottom of a flight of them.

"This is gonna change everything, Jim," Bones was saying. "You can go to public high school now, that'll be interesting, huh?"

"I'm sure I'm ahead of them," Jim mused, stepping carefully down the stairs of their porch and into the yard. He turned to look at their house, illuminated by the florescent porch lights and the opened windows. It wasn't really a farmhouse, but its white paneling would've given it that appearance…if Jim knew what farmhouses looked like traditionally.

Bones laughed, "Oh, I'm sure," he agreed sarcastically. "Since you can read and all."

"Oh you saw that, did you?"

"You starin' blankly at that tag?" Bones said, pointing to Jim's neck where he was still wearing the insignia. "Yeah, I saw that."

Jim laughed, and the brothers walked down the pathway from the house, moving under tree cover onto the road. Jim grabbed onto Bones's shoulder for support as the night sky opened up in front of him. The one thing he'd been waiting for.

Stars…

Wow, he'd heard of them but wow.

There was nothing particularly spectacular about a bunch of glowing dots on a black backdrop over a massive cornfield, but Jim was breathless and dizzier than before from staring up. The space he saw was a petrifying vastness, one that would swallow the imagination, a familiar darkness out there like the only thing he'd ever known. He wanted to lose himself among them, drag the stars down to meet him because they were rightfully his. He knew them, and they called him to join them in that vast darkness.

And suddenly he felt painfully grounded and small. The earth was rising up to meet him, gravity dragging him down…oh, he was falling. So he started throwing lassos at the sky, arms reaching. Just to be caught by Bones again. "Whoa, Jim!" his brother said, holding him under the arms. "We don't have to go walking tonight, I can drive you into town and you can just look out-"

"I want to," Jim said easily, putting a hand over Bones's on his back. "I was just…distracted."

Leonard didn't drop his guarded, concerned look, but he slowly moved his hand away from where it was supporting Jim. "It's a bit of a walk into the neighborhood down the street. You sure you can make it that far?"

Jim nodded and took Bones's skeletal hand for support as he walked. He kept his eyes ahead, but he watched the skyline, he watched the stars that emerged from the horizon. He imagined himself up there, fast as lightning, flying in a suitcase, passing the stars like they were islands and he was an airplane. The place where the sun had dipped down into the horizon was a lighter purplish color and he wondered what the cornfields would look like in the daylight. He wondered if the sun would feel warm on his eyes, warm to look at. The brothers walked hand in hand down the gravel path, the college student in a skeleton costume and Han Solo dreaming of the stars.

They talked about the future, about high school and what the Iowa farmland would look like in the morning. They made plans to go to the local museum and to go into every store in town just to look at all the items Jim had never seen. Bones had to go back to school in a few days and he promised to give his brother proper driving lessons before then.

For once the bright future Jim had always been promised was something he could actually see…

…

* * *

**Starship _Enterprise,_ Regular Orbit over Theta Cygni XII (Gregorian date: January 26, 2261/ Galactic Stardate: -52403.25869)**

"Three point two seven hours, Captain," Spock supplied, walking at Kirk's right side as he entered the transporter room, McCoy trailing on his heels.

Kirk raised a brow, "Only two decimal points? Trying to conserve time, Mr. Spock? Nervous we won't make the time-crunch?" he smirked.

Spock just humored him with a look and McCoy lugged the containment box up into Kirk's hands, effectively getting the Captain's attention. "You've got no feelin in your nerves cause of Spock's Vulcan hoodoo, but this Brain Cell virus is still a form of mind control, so if you start feelin like you're movin' against your own will, stick this in your arm," he passed a hypo to the Captain who sheathed it in his belt. "It'll petrify your muscles for half an hour. I put a sensor on it so it'll alert us if you've used it. We'll send someone down to pick you up and bring you to medical. You're on your own down there, no one to stop you from doin' something stupid."

"I'm not going to-"

"Don't," McCoy demanded before Kirk could even finish. "Just don't. Nothin' stupid." If Kirk rolled his eyes, it was because McCoy was a mother hen- not because he was a five-year-old.

Scotty beamed the Captain down himself, giving him some words of support as he energized. The engineer's aim was impeccable as usual. Kirk touched down a few meters out from the clearing where the Levinius V shuttle had crashed, the nest where the concentration of the Brain Cells was the thickest. Scotty would've never beamed Kirk down into the thick of the virus on purpose, but the ship's scanners weren't able to register the cells as lifeforms. George had mentioned that earlier, leading Jim and Spock to believe that these Brain Cells were not from the Milky Way galaxy…they'd somehow crossed the void. Scotty hadn't known he was landing his Captain in the nest, Kirk was glad he did though; it made his job a lot faster.

Luckily, from their recent raid of the city, some of the cells were still strewn across the clearing, moving about slowly in their creepy, inch-worm fashion, curling their bodies up and flopping them down in the direction they were headed. Most had already made it back into the nest, but a few slowpokes were still inching their way back to the ship. Kirk pulled on the protective gloves with numb fingers, despite the fact that the entire hazmat suit he'd worn in the nest the first time had proven ineffective against transmission of the virus. Honestly, numb or not, he just didn't wanna touch the things by accident. They were not the fun kind of fleshy. So, he picked one up in his tongs and kinda sort of flailed as he tossed the cell into his containment box, well…not tossed so much as flung. He shook out his hand afterwards, thoroughly grossed-out despite not having made hand-contact with it.

He fumbled for his communicator, "Beam me up," he said quickly. The little jelly-demons were inching towards him now…which, yeah, he was pretty sure they could fly, so he wasn't too concerned that they were after him…if they really wanted him, they'd just leap on and bite. They probably just sensed a lifeform and were curious…or maybe they sensed their own nervous tissue membrane inside Kirk's system. Either way, he wanted out.

And he got what he wanted, appearing on the transporter pad seconds later, clutching the containment box in one hand. He let out a breath and grinned at the small audience in the room, "Easy peasy," he said, holding out the container for Bones who was already rushing forward to take it.

There was nothing to do while Bones completed his tests with the UVC radiation besides check that they could indeed sync with the satellites and that there were indeed enough satellites equipped to reflect, filter, and project radiation from the Theta Cygni sun. Chekov and a team of engineering, science, and communications workers were on those tasks, figuring out not only whether or not those things were possible, but also how they would execute those tasks. Kirk and Spock headed up to the bridge to check in on their progress. "Time check, Spock?" Kirk said as they waited in the turbolift.

"Two point eight-seven four hours."

"Ah, see, we're making good time."

"I remind you, Captain, the Cygnians must perceive the termination of the virus before they will retract their threat," Spock said reasonably. He didn't sound very begrudging about the pertinent danger the Cygnians were posing. Kirk's lip twitched a little at the corner. He understood the logic behind the threat too, but he wasn't as quick to allow logic to force amnesty out of him…especially not when his ship was the thing being threatened. Spock had his brow quirked up in that way he did when he was noticing Kirk noticing him. "I estimate that we will complete the required tasks with nearly twenty-five percent of the remaining time to spare."

So, in Spalk, (Spock-talk an original word courtesy of James T. Kirk) really, Spock was just saying that he had faith in their capability to actually do things by the book and save the day after running the necessary tests for once. Which was nice. Honestly, if Kirk could've just shined some super-intense sunlight on the planet forty-five minutes ago, he would've. But, that may have blinded the majority of the population and created more issues to address, skin cancer being one of them, so it was nice to have people here to hold back the impulsion.

They arrived on the bridge only to meet Chekov waiting for them. He was a flurry of gold and movement as soon as the doors slid open. "Keptin on ze bridge," he announced, turning back to the commanding officers before they could really get out of the turbolift. "Shields are holding, Keptin, communications haz managed to de-code ze Cygnian language, and with ze help of programmers from engineering, we have completed ze computer's records and created a usable translator program. With zis, we have kinnected to ze satellites as you wequested."

Kirk clapped both hands on the ensign's shoulders and was about to applaud him, but he apparently wasn't done, "And!" he said triumphantly, "With ze help of your diwision," he gave Spock a smile, "We have programmed and calibrated the satellites to meet the specifications. Zey will shift to weflect ze sun's rays and, lucky for us, ze technology of ze Cygnians iz quite adwanced. Zey control ze enwironment by outfitting ze satellites with a material that absorbs wery specific wavelengths and weflects others. Zhis is ze reason zhey can surwive on a planet so close to ze sun! Ze ozone your sensors detected was artificially created!" It was obvious that the ensign found this fascinating. His enthusiasm was always a bright spot on the bridge. "Because we are in control of ze satellites' computers, we can control what wavelengths are emitted."

Kirk waited a moment to be sure he was done before giving Chekov a little shake, "Perfect!" he said with a grin, looking over at Spock who had both brows raised now. "Better than we expected." Kirk dropped his hands and walked over to his seat, "So now, we just wait for Bones's word and we get this lightshow started."

"Captain, Ultraviolet Radiation does not emit a light perceivable to the human-"

"I know, Spock."

…

* * *

**Highland High School, Riverside, Iowa: November 17, 2010 (Federation Stardate: 2010.88/ Galactic Stardate -282761.714)**

With new eye-sight came new metaphorical sight. Meaning, of course, Jim learned a _ton_ of new information over the weeks he'd been able to see. For one thing, he knew now that was hot. He'd seen himself in the mirror when he was removing his Star Wars costume on Halloween. He hadn't been particularly impressed at first, but when he started paying attention to other peoples' appearances, he realized, by comparison, he was damn sexy. He had nice blue eyes, coiffed dirty-blond hair, a light tan- he was well-off. But, after effectively deflating his ego with some well-worded insults, Bones assured him that physical appeal would prove itself a curse just as much as a blessing. Still, it had been a month and that had yet to prove itself true.

Outside the comforting fact that he was attractive, Jim learned about his own personality as well. He found his two 'obsessions' as Amanda called them. 1. Space. Seriously, he learned his star-charts before he learned to read…for all four seasons. He bought a copy of all three volumes of Burnham's Celestial Handbook and read them as soon as he was able, finishing them all over the first week of owning them. He watched all the Star Wars movies, memorizing different species of make-believe aliens and learning the charts of their planets. Amanda was going to help him paint a mural of Luke Skywalker blowing up the Death Star on his wall…

And 2. Running. He'd never been able to jog when he'd been blind, but he found it freeing to go for a run at night under the autumn stars. Every night he found he could run further without getting tired and the thought that he could improve himself uninhibited was freedom like he'd never known. He jogged every night, giving Amanda a map of his route, putting on a white t-shirt, and taking a flashlight with him. It was something he enjoyed, something he did for himself, but he always felt a little lonely when he ran, like someone was suppose to be there next to him, keeping pace with him. That probably said something about him, but he wasn't sure what.

He learned to read in about a week- he already knew brail, so he just had to convert the little bumps he was familiar with into Arabic letters. It wasn't that difficult. And, with the ability to read more quickly and see corresponding pictures, came a whole _universe_ of knowledge. He immersed himself in books about (surprise, surprise) space.

He learned other little things too. Poker from Bones, Chess and the piano from Amanda, how to make smoothies- that one was totally on him-, the roadway systems of Riverside, and where to get the best apples (Kum and Go gas station from local growers on Enterprise Lane off highway 22).

And, a lot of things had _happened_ over the course of a few weeks. He'd met Ellen Degeneres and talked on her show…and a couple others, but really he couldn't remember the names of most of them, especially the medical shows he'd guest-starred on- much to Bones's chagrin. He didn't really enjoy Television as much now that he could see the screen. He was kind of a big star though...well, he was famous enough to make Yahoo news.

Also, Bones had given him the driving lessons he'd promised and Jim hadn't crashed the car…well, it was kind of difficult to really 'crash' a car when you're driving in a neighbor's corn field while they're on vacation. It was very easy to get lost among the stalks though, and it took them about half an hour to find their way out of the field. It was probably the greatest experience of Jim's life so far.

Before he'd had to go, Bones had gone with Jim to the local pawn shops and they'd looked at old record players, golf clubs, leather jackets, typewriters, antique horns, broken guns, boxing helmets, various kinds of barstools, wicker baskets, board games…they'd bought a leather jacket and a poker set before leaving, and Bones made his brother promise that he wouldn't tell Amanda about the poker set. Jim believed it was because Bones thought she'd confiscate it and he didn't really believe she would. Bones knew it was because Amanda would kick his ass at poker if she found it.

They'd gone to the Science Center of Iowa on the last day before Bones had to go back to school. He'd told his professors he'd be coming back over the weekend, and he hadn't picked up his class work for the next week, so he had to be back by Monday. So, on Sunday, the family had driven out to Des Moines just to see the planetarium. After the show, Jim couldn't quite describe the feeling he'd left that Imax with, and he could tell Bones and Amanda were somewhat feeling the same- out of place and trapped- but they'd been exposed to the stars and the sight of the universe their whole lives. Jim was just, overwhelmed with it. And, his dreams hadn't been the same since then; they'd been filled with nebulae and supernovae, wormholes and the void…but there were a few familiar faces…

In other news, he'd had to sit up at the Apse of his church with the clergy for the past three services. They were hailing him like some kind of miracle. Which was actually a little cool at first but was quickly getting humiliating. And Jim sang along with the hymns, but he'd already gone over the medical journals about the procedure Dr. Perkins had used to fix his vision. He knew it wasn't God that cured him, it was science. That, partnered with his research into the structure of the universe had him questioning the value of theology…in summation had a lot of hollow hallelujahs lately.

And that had been the transpirings of the past three weeks of new sight.

Right about now though, Jim was hanging upside down from a basketball net, his lanky ankle hooked into the crease between the metal ring that held up the net and the backboard. His blond hair dangled away from his forehead and his arms were limp around his head. His shirt was falling down, exposing his pale stomach and showing off his puerile, hairless chest. The wrestling team had tied him up here with a jump rope for punching the State Champion then fighting him and throwing his cellphone into the ceiling rafters after the jerk had shoved an autistic kid for being a smart-alec…. It was a pretty fair trade actually, well, Jim thought so. The knobby black bruise growing on his cheek- not so fair. But yeah, his being tied to the basketball net wasn't stopping the other kids in his gym class from trying to shoot hoops. Just to fight back, Jim kept knocking their shots away from the goal with his free foot and laughing about it when they got frustrated and threw the balls at him instead.

After about ten minutes, the coach returned from talking on her cell phone and she chased away the kids throwing the balls so she could start demanding answers. After a short interrogation that involved finger-pointing and a couple of immature snide comments on Jim's part, he was ambling moodily off to the office for starting fights.

He waited in a chair outside his counselor's office. A misdemeanor like this didn't merit the attention of the principal apparently. Or maybe the school just didn't want to suspend the 'local miracle'. So, Jim planted his butt in the plastic chair in the hall. There was another kid waiting. The counselor's were assigned alphabetically, so Jim figured the kid had a last name that started with 'F-J' like his own. "Hey," he said casually as he sat.

"Hi," the boy responded, posture closed off but relaxed.

For some strange reason, Jim felt the need to befriend this kid. "Jim," he offered. "Jim Grayson."

"Scott Grogan," the boy answered, brushing a hand through his short brown hair. Yep, last name F-J.

"Grogan…that Scottish?" Jim asked curiously and he felt bad for sounding so hopeful.

"I'm Irish," the boy corrected. "Second-generation immigrant."

"Ah. That's really cool." Jim said, slightly disappointed. He was pretty sure Kirk was Scottish or Anglo-Saxon, but he wasn't totally positive. Besides, that was his birth name, not the one he went by technically, so he just extended his hand to shake and said, "Nice to meet you Scott Grogan whose parents hail from Ireland, I'm Jim Kirk Grayson, a white male of European descent."

"Wow, Ireland is in Europe! What a coincidence! Maybe our relatives knew each other!" Scott said sarcastically, smiling at Jim warmly and shaking the offered hand.

Well, Jim could appreciate a person who trusted their bad sense of humor with a complete stranger, "What're you in for?" he inquired, raising a brow. This kid seemed really friendly, not the usual type in the counselor-line.

"Mr. Archer's my neighbor," the boy explained.

"The physics teacher?"

"The one and only. Yeah, he put up an equation on the board wrong then yelled at me after I corrected him, so I let his beagle out last night…"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I feel bad about it."

Jim laughed and patted the kid's shoulder, "You got sent to the counselor for letting out a dog?"

"Well, Archer can't punish me at my house, so-"

"-James," a female voice said sternly from the counselor's office. It was Mrs. Beeson, his counselor, she was studying the short line of academic delinquents waiting for attention. "Hello, Mr. Grogan," she said with a resigned air of familiarity. "Come in, James" she said, obviously in full knowledge that she'd be seeing both of this boy in her office very frequently.

Jim gave Scott a little wave and followed Mrs. Beeson into her office where he took a seat across from her at her desk. She planted herself across from him and frowned impatiently, folding her hands. She didn't make any move to start talking first. She didn't even ask what he'd done. So, the room was painfully quiet.

"I like your hair," Jim said abruptly, deciding to go for flattery. She didn't respond for a moment, her expression not softening a notch, "Did you do something new with it?"

"No."

"It looks very…black and…" He tried to find a word and it eluded him, so his hands spun in the air for a moment. "Is there more of it? Did you die it?"

"It's black."

"Has it always been that way?"

Mrs. Beeson didn't grace that with an answer. "James, this is the third time you've been sent to my office for fighting."

"Only three?"

"You've been a student for two weeks."

"...Right," Jim said slowly, eyes squinting a little like he didn't understand what the problem was. He understood why he shouldn't be here, but he liked to think they had a pleasant little thing going where he acted innocent and she got progressively more frustrated. It felt like a thing and he liked having social patterns to work with.

"I'm not going to call your mother this time, I'm sure she has better things to do-"

"She does," Jim agreed.

"Than come pick her ungrateful son up from-"

"Hey, I'm _anything_ but-"

"-From another trip to the office," Beeson finished, giving him a hard look. "You've been blessed in so many ways, James, and this is how you respond to the opportunities before you. You're intelligent, famous, you've already got colleges asking about you. But, you're screwing up your records. You think the rules don't _apply_ to you just because they're not convenient for you."

She kept talking, but at that point, Jim started blocking her out to think about more important things. Their 'conversation' stretched on for half an hour and she never gave Jim the opportunity to explain why he'd started the fight. She didn't call Amanda- like she said, but she did send him to ISS for the rest of the day where he sat between the hick who liked to spit chewing tobacco into a waterbottle and the pregnant girl who once stabbed another girl with her keys at lunch. He knew them by name, but honestly, he'd rather pretend he didn't.

…

* * *

**Starship _Enterprise,_ Regular Orbit over Theta Cygni XII (Gregorian date: January 26, 2261/ Galactic Stardate: -52403.25869)**

They didn't get the satellites up and running within Spock's predicted time-parameters, but that was only because he hadn't accounted for how much McCoy liked to take his sweet time on things.

Well, really, it wasn't Bones' fault, Kirk was just getting frustrated. The Med bay wasn't equipped for sterile observation of dangerous species, so McCoy had to bring the cell down to the Science Deck where they could put the cell into a containment chamber to observe, and that chamber wasn't equipped to emit the radiation they needed, so he had to get a team of engineers to install the lights in the containment cell and it was all very difficult with the Cell thrashing about and clicking angrily. So, it had taken a bit longer than predicted to make sure they could kill the cells, and he sent out the 'Ok' for them to start using the satellites with barely ten minutes left on the clock.

Then, of course, as destiny would have it, the Dilithium crystals gave out and the _Enterprise_ jumped onto reserve power, which apparently didn't provide energy to any communication venues outside emergency contacts- which was a massive problem. It meant they couldn't send the signal for the satellites to start projecting UVC radiation. And, if they didn't start projecting _now_, the Cygnians threatening the _Enterprise_ wouldn't see any noticeable improvement in the infected's condition and they would destroy the ship as promised. "I can re-route the power relays to the ship-to-craft output," Uhura said, jumping up from her station.

Kirk was going to provide his assistance, knowing she was capable, but also knowing that it would be a quicker task if she had the help of someone with the skill-set of an electrician. But, Spock beat him to it, following her into the turbo-lift without Captain's instruction- or permission. Kirk watched them go; figuring that he would decide whether or not to scold Spock for that later, judging on how this turned out. For now, he kept his attention on the bridge.

"Sulu, divert all available back up power to shields."

"Captain-"

"All of it," Kirk repeated, "Turn out unnecessary lights, environmental controls, everything that's not being used to keep us in the sky."

"Yes sir," Sulu said warily. Kirk's urgency obviously beginning to worry everyone on the bridge. He'd been so hopeful and cheery just half an hour ago, but he'd been getting increasingly edgy and the tension was surmounting.

…

* * *

**Location: Grayson Residence. Riverside, Iowa: November 17, 2010 (Federation Stardate: 2010.88/ Galactic Stardate -282761.7149)**

Amanda was strangely silent at dinner that night. She hadn't been out in the garden when Jim got home from school. He'd gone directly to the backyard to look for her there and had been a little confused not to find her in their usual spot in the sunflower patch where she use to read to him. She hadn't even made any mention about the knobby bruise on Jim's cheek from the fight.

"Is it good?" he asked, hand poised with a fork over his plate, watching his mother take a sip of the smoothie he'd made.

She was a little distracted when she answered, "Mm? Mmhm, good," and Jim could see it, so he raised his brows and looked away, stabbing at his peas.

The house was quiet without Bones, but never _this_ quiet. Jim hesitated, suspecting the reason might be what Mrs. Beeson said. Amanda heard about the fight and was disappointed. He hoped not. "Did the school call?"

Amanda looked up now, her eyes obviously bloodshot and a little tired, "Why would they?" she asked warily.

Well, it was best to be honest. Jim knew his mother usually understood his side of the story- despite what Mrs. Beeson believed she should think. "I started a fight with that wrestler kid in my class."

"Mm…what for?" Amanda said, still a little distracted.

Jim was glad she asked, "He pushed Nathan."

"The autistic kid?"

"Yeah, the one in my Latin class. He was correcting the guy's grammar and he shoved him."

"Nathan can stand up for himself, Jim," Amanda said offhandedly, still aloof, but responding with the same words she normally would.

"He's a pacifist," Jim explained.

Amanda considered this for a moment, taking another sip of her son's smoothie. "Good job then."

…

* * *

**Starship _Enterprise,_ Regular Orbit over Theta Cygni XII (Gregorian date: January 26, 2261/ Galactic Stardate: -52403.25869)**

"I can handle this, Spock!" Nyota called back to her 'boyfriend' as she ran ahead to the circuit board.

"This task requires adept wiring skills along with adept fingers."

"Are you saying I lack one of those?"

"I am saying that this is outside the field of your specialty."

Nyota did her best not to be offended by that. "Kirk would want you on the bridge," she said instead, appealing to reason like she found she always had to with Spock.

"While that is likely true, had I not offered you my assistance, the Captain would have offered his own. This is the logical recourse."

Nyota growled a little in her throat, hating when Spock treated her like his student or like an inept cadet. He trusted her with her own life in dangerous situations, but with responsibility for the ship, he always wanted to hold her hand through those tasks. She was about to quip that he wouldn't even fit in the relay box where she was headed, but just then, the ship jolted and they were thrown into the wall- well, Spock was thrown into the wall. Uhura fell over into another person in a flash of red, "Whoa there, Lassie!"

"Scotty?!" Nyota pulled herself off the engineer's chest and regained her footing.

"Got yer sealegs?" Scotty said, holding her arms for a moment unconsciously to keep her stable as the ship jolted again.

"We are being fired upon," Spock observed behind them, bracing himself against the wall he'd fallen into. "Mr. Scott, are the engines online for orbital propulsion?"

"We've proly got 'nough power ta fly outta their range, but not very far," Scotty said.

Nyota turned. "Spock, we'll get the communications online by the time you get to the bridge, go tell Kirk to high-tail it outta here."

"The Captain does not necessitate my assistance. Furthermore, Mr. Scott does not possess the wiring skill set-"

"Excuse ye, I know every inch of this ship, down ta th' wee copper threads in th' wires!" Scotty said, affronted.

"It's just re-setting relays, this is not the time for this, Spock," Nyota insisted, grabbing Scotty's arm and beginning to pull him back in the direction she'd been running. But, Spock was still following them. "What makes you think _I_ can't wire the damn communications?" Nyota shouted, getting frustrated now.

"Circuit positioning was your weakest subject at the academy-"

"Yet I placed top twenty in that course."

"I am merely stating that you-"

"Don't need your assistance."

Spock stopped in his tracks, watching Nyota pull Mr. Scott behind her to the communications circuit board. She insisted that she didn't require aide, yet she took the engineer with her- presumably to help. Spock noted the inconsistency and nurtured the suspicion that she did not desire _his_ help specifically. He didn't stop to theorize her reasoning, but he did consider possibilities as he ran back to the turbolift to resume his position on the bridge…as requested.

Nyota and Scotty continued their course to the circuit box where he helped her open the wall panel over the communications board. It was small, vertical corridor, a tube of wiring that extended into darkness as it went up deeper into the ship. Nyota looked up into the cluster of yellow, red and blue wires, quickly finding the relays she needed to disconnect and where she needed to feed the energy supply. She reached up into the corridor to unplug the power supply, but she couldn't quite reach the ship-to-vessel relay dock, even standing on her toes. "Scotty, I can't reach, you try," she said, ducking her head out of the duct to pass the wire off to the engineer, but he held his hands up to show he wasn't taking her job.

"I'm stouter than y'are, lassie," he pointed out, "I can give ye a lift, but that's 'bout all I can offer." He knelt to offer his shoulders and she accepted the lift, mounting his shoulders and crawling back up into the corridor, the relay within easy reach now, making the job very fast.

…

**Starship _Enterprise,_ Regular Orbit over Theta Cygni XII cont.**

On the bridge, the officers were in their usual battle-station frenzy. "Shields down to forty-percent and dropping fast, Captain," Sulu reported.

"Ze Cygnians are uszing some form of adwanced ion-canon technology."

"Can you pinpoint the origin?" Kirk said, leaning over the weapons station. "Maybe we can salvage some power and disrupt the-"

"Shields at thirty-percent, Captain."

"Diwerting any power from the shields would be inadwisabe."

"Twenty-nine."

A hard jolt sent Kirk sprawling towards a railing. It caught his chest and knocked the air out of his lungs…that was a painfully familiar feeling. "Alright, then scratch th-"

Spock entered the bridge then and Kirk turned half-way through his thought. He hadn't expected Spock back on the bridge so soon- not that he wasn't glad to have him. "Captain, Communications reports that they are online," the First Officer said stiffly.

"You sure?" Kirk checked, quickly noting Spock's posture.

"Quite."

"Twenty."

Kirk held onto the railing, knuckles white, staring at Spock seriously for a moment. He was obviously agitated about something and Jim was trying to figure out who'd shoved a stick up his ass. After a second, he decided he didn't want to know and turn to Ensign Turner who was filling in for Uhura. "Send out the signal."

…

* * *

**Location: Grayson Residence, Riverside, Iowa: November 17, 2010 (Federation Stardate: 2010.88/ Galactic Stardate -282761.7151)**

Jim had always had the vague knowledge that his real mother was unstable. Well, it was actually obvious considering the circumstances Amanda had found him and Bones in, abandoned in the desert, but he always felt like he was intimately affected by his mother's grief. He could never place how he knew the woman was consumed with grief. He never knew why he felt affected by a woman he never really met, and he felt melodramatic for dwelling on it when he had such a good mother as Amanda to be the one who actually raised him. But, he always had the nagging fear that mothers in his life would always shut down, succumb to their loss, and abandon him…despite all the evidence Amanda offered to the contrary.

So, when she went directly to bed after dinner instead of playing chess with him and teaching him the piano song of the day, he felt that nagging fear welling up and threatening to overflow. It really shouldn't be enough to trigger such a reaction, it was one instance where she needed some alone time, but Jim just didn't know how to address her apparent sadness.

So, he opened the door to her bedroom without knocking. He crawled onto her bed in the spot where he'd slept when he'd had nightmares as a child on the occasions when Bones wasn't letting him into his bed. His mother was already a warm lumpy mass under the comforter. It was only six o'clock.

Jim peeled the covers back and let himself under, "Mom?" he said, leaning on a pillow and expecting her to turn over and face him. She didn't. "Are you alright?" he said gently.

She curled a little further, "I just have a headache," she said dismissively.

"Bullshit," Jim accused.

"Language," she mumbled, half-assed. There was a strict curse-freely zone in the house since Bones had left for college. Honestly, Amanda believed that taking offense to 'fowl language' only armed the words with more power than they deserved. Most civilized, educated company didn't take offense to harmless words, and the only words that were harmful to society were ones that were derogatory to gender or race. Bones just tended to cherish the tabooed words more than was necessary, so they banned them when he was home to get a break from their over-use.

Jim loved her for little things like that, little parenting choices that she granted him that had always given him freedom of thought and expression even when the world had been a dark closed-off place for him. "Mom, what's wrong?" he said gently, wanting to give her the same freedom.

She finally rolled over, and Jim couldn't see if she'd been crying or not in the dark since her eyes were dry _now_, but he could tell she was tired from the shadows under her eyes. "It's nothing, Jimmy, just a long day at work."

"I know your voice better than that," Jim said easily. "I can tell you're lying."

A wry smile met her face and she looked older now than Jim had ever seen her- by that, he had little reference- a month's worth, but it was still an applicable observation. "It's Stan," she finally admitted.

Jim sat up a little, "Your boyfriend?" he said, worry coming over his voice, "Did he hurt you?"

She raised a brow at his worry and sat up herself, coming out of the shadow of her blankets into enough light that Jim could see she had indeed been crying, "No, no! And if he did, I wouldn't need you to protect me," she said sternly. Her severe look quickly withered, "I…left him today."

"Then…why were you crying?" Jim said naively.

And, that seemed to flip a switch because Amanda crumpled back into the bed, and her grief sent Jim spiraling into panic. "Everything's wrong," she said miserably. "I-I can't describe how, hell, I don't even know _what's_ wrong, it's just…it's everything…" She covered her face in her hands, ashamed to be this vulnerable in front of her son. Jim's circumstances were so much worse than hers had ever been, and she had tried so hard for so long to keep this nagging depression hidden for her boys, but the break with Stan was just the last straw of many. She was letting Jim down and she just couldn't seem to stop. "And-…and, I've got no right to say that with you seeing now… a-and you and Leo, you'remiracles, you're p-perfect, I lovethislife, but…but it's just-" She was talking quickly, jumbling her words into strings of syllables, and she couldn't say it. If she said it, Jim would think he had messed up somehow and she wouldn't do that to him.

"Something's missing," Jim finished though, shaking now himself, understanding easily. Amanda was feeling the same thing he had for years. And, while Amanda's grief was scary because it was proving that Jim's irrational fear of a disappointed mother wasn't so irrational, he found it comforting that she was voicing his own distress. He was fourteen; honestly, he was beyond the point of needing to fear forced autonomy. So, he found himself pushing on that grief instead of trying to sooth it, goosebumps rising on his arms at the realization that he'd never been as alone in this feeling as he thought. "Something huge and heartbreaking is missing and you ache for it in your soul."

She nodded, mouth open, dumbstruck.

"I feel it too…" Jim whispered.

Amanda let out a little apprehensive giggle. "I don't think you get it, Jim, I-"

"You miss _him_," Jim insisted, effectively silencing her.

"Him…?" Amanda breathed, tensing further, feeling cornered.

"You use to tell me those bedtime stories-"

"About the desert prince-" she said with a nod.

"With the pointed ears," Jim finished. "And the ship that he sailed across the stars." Jim studied his adoptive mother in the dim light from the windows, hugging a pillow under his chest. She was pale as a ghost, distressed but humoring his accusations for now, but he was pretty sure he'd start pushing her into a defensive position here soon. "That human 'princess' in the stories, the one that he met on earth and fell for despite all odds, the one that married him and defied her people, the hero that stood up to the prejudice of the entire galaxy for the sake of love-"

"Jim, it's just a story," Amanda cut him off, voice going tight. They use to joke that she should write that story into a book, but she'd never told them the origin of the 'fairytale', not the truth at least. Bones had accused her of ripping off the Aeneid, using the plotline of Dido and Aeneas' romance and giving them a happy ending, she decided to use that explanation. But, apparently Jim never bought it.

"You didn't make it up. It was a dream, wasn't it?" Jim accused. "You had dreams about him. The stories were _dreams_."

"Jim, _stop_!"

"You were the 'princess'."

"It's a fucking _story_!" Amanda said, tone going uncharacteristically harsh.

Jim's mouth clamped shut, shocked numb. The two stared at each other for a moment in dark understanding, these accusations were just demons, and Jim was trying to summon the devil. Amanda was trying to forbid it. But, after a moment, Jim resumed, undeterred. This was important, and he'd been thinking about it for far too long to stop now that he was ahead. "That's why you broke up with Stan. He's not him! You couldn't keep kidding yourself… It's why you break up with every damn guy you ever go out with! You _miss_ him! You need _him_."

"Jim!" Amanda shouted, "Out!"

"Well, I miss someone too…" Jim said vindictively. And, Jim was fourteen years old and Amanda's adopted son, but in that moment, they weren't a makeshift family, they were allies. "Even when I was blind, I could see him in my dreams."


	7. Parenting

_Hi, I'm so sorry for the delay guys. My course load this year's insane, so my updates will be sporadic. There's no avoiding that._

_I own nothing. This is un-beta-ed, so the mistakes are all mine._

* * *

_..._

**Starship _Enterprise,_ Regular Orbit over Theta Cygni XII (Gregorian date: January 27, 2261/ Galactic Stardate: -52403.95869)**

The call came in four hours after Theta Cygni XII had stopped firing on the _Enterprise._

…

The bridge had been tense for a few resounding seconds after the final shots, all officers staying firmly seated in anticipation, many still digging their hands into their armrests, until Uhura announced that she was receiving a message from Martia on planetside. The Cygnians were granting them another fifteen hours (one Theta Cygnian day) before they would destroy the _Enterprise's_ engines and force them to ground her in some body of water. They'd reported the brain cells shriveling and dying in the streets of infested towns, and they wanted some time to confirm that the virus was truly dying. Then, in the event that the UVC radiation had defeated the scourge, they requested that the human leaders (in this case, Kirk and Spock) come to complete diplomatic procedure and help them to restore communications with the Federation. Martia said the translator had done its best, but a lot of the information she was providing was interpretation. Nevertheless, she gave coordinates to where the meeting would take place.

The moment Martia's face disappeared from the main screen, Bones had a claw on the Captain's ear. Kirk had been exchanging victory looks with his first officer. He and Spock had developed a silent form of communication through their facial expressions- though Spock's side of this was very limited. At the time, their faces were talking about how pleased they were by the Cygnians' desire to restore contact with Starfleet.

Bones had been trying to get the Captain's attention for the better part of two hours, but Kirk had been busy trying to keep the ship in the sky while conserving as much of their power as possible. The shields had trouble blocking the Cygnian's lasers, and when they'd tried to leave orbit to escape their range, the Cygnians had deployed some kind of tractor-beam that held them in place.

"The technology of this isolationist people is far advanced to anything the Federation provides," Spock had observed. Kirk thought he was the only one who noticed the subtle inappropriate fascination his First Officer had for these felinoid people. And, while Bones had been lecturing him on the merits of having a working nervous system, he'd pushed on giving orders. There was no way he was stopping just to re-grow his nerves while his ship was in jeopardy- even if it was difficult to control all his limbs.

But, Bones had him now. "Sulu, take the helm," Kirk called as the doctor moved his grip down to the Captain's wrist and pulled him up out of his chair, "Keep a line open to my communicator, I've gotta go to Med Bay. Contact me if a message comes in or if something happens," it was difficult to keep spouting orders as Bones dragged him up the steps to the turbolift.

Kirk liked to make eye-contact with the people he was ordering around, and with Bones dragging him backwards across the bridge, this had caused a few undignified stumbles over steps or into railings.

The doors started to shut, but Bones kicked a foot between them and they jolted back open. "Get in here, Spock."

…

Kirk watched the vitals monitor raise and lower at miniscule increments as the regenerator whirred above him. He'd been under this thing too many times to count- getting bruises from the tribblevore healed off his arm, fingers or toes re-grown over prosthetic bones, melding his lips back on after an Orion bit them off- for all kinds of good reasons.

"This thing's almost done," Bones said, fiddling with some dials on the side of the regenerator and talking to Spock behind his back. "If you wanna get started on puttin' him back in his head."

Spock gave a curt nod, his hands folded immaculately behind his back. He stepped closer and brought one out to touch Jim's face, but Kirk held a hand out to stop him, "Whoa there, how long will it take?" he said apprehensively. Looking around the Med Bay, it was obvious they were on reserve power. The lights were turned out, only solar powered ones up and running, and those were dim and sporadic, placed over patients receiving treatment- only in necessary places. They needed to get dilithium crystals beamed aboard the ship before they lost remaining power, meaning Kirk would have to conduct negotiations with the Starfleet settlement on Deneva.

"I presume it would not be long," Spock said, arms falling to his sides now in anticipation for reaching forward. He seemed to understand why Kirk was in such a rush, and he looked down from directly next to the bed, forcing the Captain to look up to see him, "Your mind is abnormally easy for me to manipulate," he said plainly, reaching his hand out gently.

"Excuse me?" Kirk demanded, a little put off. "What's that suppose to mean?"

"No insult was intended," Spock said dismissively, honestly, and he put his fingers to Jim's face, adjusting their placement, "May I?"

Kirk did believe that Spock wasn't insulting him, but he still didn't know what to think of having an 'easy' mind. He wasn't sure if he was being called stupid or not, but he didn't appreciate the opinion. "Go on…" he invited.

And Kirk barely had time to process Spock's fingers pressing a little harder against his face before the floor dropped out under him.

….

Armed with a fully functional nervous system, and the knowledge that the Cygnians were continuing to see improvement- therefore _wouldn't_ be destroying his baby, the Captain retired to his quarters to commence negotiations with the Starfleet settlement on Deneva- a Commodore Nelson in particular. If they didn't get some power on the ship, they were going to plummet in about eighteen hours. Trying to get the officers in that colony to beam them dilithium crystals was Kirk's highest priority.

The Captain was in the middle of receiving a colorfully-worded lecture from Commodore Nelson on the merits of reporting to outposts for supply-runs when told to, when the call was interrupted by an urgent signal from Engineering. It was an interruption Kirk accepted gratefully, mashing a palm to his face to clear the uninterested look before he answered.

"What's happening, Scotty?"

But it wasn't Scotty on the screen; it was Keenser- who was promptly shoved away from the camera, "Git away from thare! Captain?" Scotty insinuated himself onto the screen, "Captain, I hiner yor not bothering ta contact a Starfleet outpost on some obscure planit."

"You're actually interrupting my negotiations with Deneva…" Kirk said, narrowing his eyes, "What's this about, Scotty?"

"Dilithium crystals, Sir. We' got a whole engine a' um- nough ta power the _Enterprise_ for a century. Turns it yer mom saved the ones powering 'er ship afore th Cygnians destroyed it. Beamed um up ta us bout five minutes ago."

"You didn't think to tell me?" Kirk said, raising a teasing brow.

"I was setting them in place!" the Scotsman snapped defensively. "Anyways, we're all safe ta go Captain. We've got plenty of juice ta get us ta Starbase 204."

Kirk grinned, slapping his desk and sitting back, "That's fantastic, Scotty! Great!" He was about to retract his accusation of Winona's incompetence. But just then, the monitor beeped with another message- this one from the surface of the planet. It was a small, unassuming beep for the grave news it harkened. Kirk's grin dropped quickly though, even without knowing, "I've gotta go, Scotty. Could you call Commodore Nelson and tell him we're all set?"

Scotty gave a quick "Aye, Sir," and disconnected.

The call was an Andorian Lieutenant from Winona's crew. Kirk hadn't seen her at any point while he'd been there, so he didn't recognize the face, but she was in the uniform of a Science Officer. She had the characteristic blue skin, antennae and white hair of her species- along with a pretty face, big brown eyes, curved brows, and bowed lips. She'd be a welcome sight- a pretty girl he didn't have to work with on the _Enterprise_, and Kirk would've impulsively flirted if it weren't for the sympathetic, apologetic look which aroused alarm before attraction. "Can I help you?" he said tentatively after a moment, when that look became too much to bare.

"The Cygnians have learned that the de-fabrication process of the nervous membrane is an exponential feature of the infection," she began carefully, and Kirk already had an idea where she was going with this. "During the first few hours of the process, the Brain Cell Virus has little foothold in the nervous tissue, but as it spreads, each virus cell's dendrites infect more links which infect more and more and more. The destruction of the natural nervous system speeds up exponentially."

"George is dead," Kirk said with surety. "Isn't he."

She pressed her pretty lips in a frown and looked away. That was confirmation in itself. "I didn't think it'd be a good idea to let Commander Kirk contact you herself. She's…a mess."

Kirk sucked in a shaky breath. It rattled in his chest. "And Aurelan and the boys?"

"I'm sorry."

Kirk broke then, cutting the feed and letting out a whimper before burying his head in his elbow. Everything fell apart. He'd been trying so hard to save these planets- breaking the Prime Directive to do it. And so far, the virus was dying, but it felt like losing now. The scene played out in Kirk's mind- the quarantine center, plated in the same gold as the rest of the city buildings, swamped with infected Cygnians, felinoid doctors rushing about with limited space, the bodies of four humans aliens among the native species. All patients in the center needed new nervous tissue- the Cygnian doctors would've had no idea how to replace a human's nerves.

Jim had failed. He'd known the 'destiny' of his brother and he hadn't even _tried_ to fight it. He'd sacrificed his own brother for the sake of three planets. Somehow it didn't feel like a fair trade, and Kirk just dragged in a breath, hating how distant he'd been from his family- the opportunity he'd missed to have a real brother. He wondered now if they'd ever missed him. Had they ever wished he'd been around? Would George have left him with Frank if he'd known the divorce would happen and where Winona would leave him?

A sharp knocking at the door behind him jolted him out of his wallowing and he sat up, frantically wiping his face clean before he ordered the computer to open the door. Footsteps moved into the room while Kirk kept wiping eyes. He turned to face the guest, spinning his chair around.

His forced smile became slightly more genuine, more relieved when Spock stepped into the room. Of the people it would be knocking (meaning Spock or McCoy as they were the only two crewmembers who came unannounced) Spock was the less intrusive option. Kirk just couldn't see him prying into his feelings or trying to give unwanted comfort. "You could've let yourself in," Kirk chastised. "You've got the code."

The Vulcan had his hands folded behind his back as usual. Did he know that doing that stretched his shirt across his chest in an obscene way? Doubtful. "I had no intention to intrude," he said formally.

Kirk got up out of his seat, keeping his distance so Spock wouldn't see any remaining puffy redness. "Can I help you, Mr. Spock?" he said, voice a little clipped. He hadn't forgotten that Spock called his mind 'easy'.

Spock paused- probably parsing out Kirk's improper choice in potential independent clause subjunctive verb, studying the Captain's face from across the bedroom.

"_May_ I help you, Spock?" Kirk corrected, smiling stiffly and hoping to be answered promptly.

Spock was unmoved, "Jim, the heated fluster of your face and sheen of residue on your cheeks indicate that you were, as I suspect, crying." Spock took a step closer- Kirk took one back in response. "May I inquire as to why?"

"You may not."

But, Spock looked like he already knew; there was something sad and sympathetic in those expressive eyes- barely perceivable. Spock kept a tight lid on those expressions, but even without the visual aide, Kirk just knew his First Officer had figured it out, he knew Spock was sending him sympathy, and he dropped the forced smile. He dropped into his chair and let his devastation show.

Spock moved across the room, steps careful and even, "Due to your efforts here, Theta Cygni XII will rejoin the Federation, surely they'll prove a source of great contribution. Because your intuition perceived the message informing of Levinius V's warp capabilities as a threat to this planet, we have successfully intercepted the virus and delivered a cure to their people. The cure we provided will prevent the infection of Ingraham B and Deneva." Spock kept a distance, but he did drop to one knee directly in front of Kirk's desk chair, getting on the same eye-level as him. "Captain, we breeched the Prime Directive in saving these billions of lives, however I did not protest. It was the logical and morally correct course of action."

"Thanks for that," Kirk said simply and he made a move to turn his chair and push Spock away.

But Spock just grabbed his wrist, "Your brother and his family had already been stranded on this planet upon our arrival. Without our interference, their lives would still have been lost." Kirk pulled his wrist away and Spock let it go easily, "Jim, you couldn't have helped him," he insisted. "Over time, his family would have been infected. In fact, I assume that, without our assistance, every member of your mother's archeological team would have perished. This mission was, by definition of the motives we set, largely a success."

Kirk's face only hardened at that. He didn't want to be reminded that this was a victory for the _Enterprise-_ not when he was losing his brother and the family he should've had_._ "I know that, Spock. I know I should be celebrating, and I was at first- it's not like I'm not happy for all those who survived_. _I just…" He was growing a little hysteric, "They were family! If there was anyone I should've been able to help, it was them! They're my blood and I saved everyone but them! Y'know what that's like?!"

"You are aware that I do."

Kirk immediately deflated at Spock's tone, realization hitting him like a brick to the face…Spock's mother- he'd saved most of the high council and lost the one person who was important to _him_. Spock was studying him, body and eyes totally still. He wasn't upset. He was hardened to that grief- had cauterized it a long time ago. These were the kind of wounds you just had to ignore- pretend they weren't there. Spock just wanted Kirk to know that he understood the feeling without admitting to feeling anything. "I'm sorry, Spock," Kirk said needlessly.

"Perhaps my rescue efforts don't equate to this scale…" Spock said, reconsidering.

"And I wasn't exactly close to George," Kirk added. _Like you were to your mom, _"It's the same concept," he dismissed the topic with that, getting up out of his chair and putting a hand on Spock's shoulder where he was still knelt on the floor. "Now, what'd you come in for?"

Spock rose to his feet- all graceful lanky limbs and compact strength. "We are requested to meet the Cygnian international officials in thirteen point four seven hours. Our translators should prove sufficient to allow for communication, however to avoid major cultural misunderstandings, I've arranged to meet the officials that negotiated with Ensign Martia. It seemed logical to extend the invitation for you to join-"

"Yeah, sure," Kirk said before Spock could even finish. "That's a great idea actually. When're we meeting them?"

"They are waiting for us now," Spock answered and Kirk raised a brow, lips drawing together in the 'oh' shape that indicated interest. "At the Federation outpost."

"Oh…"

Spock noticed the drop in Kirk's enthusiasm. He realized this most likely had to do with Winona Kirk. So, he placed a hand on the Captain's back, "Shall we go?"

"Uh, yeah…yes, right."

…

**Unexpected Starfleet Outpost: Theta Cygni XII (Gregorian date: January 27, 2261/ Galactic Stardate: -52403.95901)**

So it turned out that a cultural misunderstanding was practically guaranteed due to the fact that neither Spock nor Kirk were currently in possession of a tail. Apparently it was a focal point in body language amongst the Cygnians. Upon learning this, Kirk impulsively cracked jokes about the one time Bones had unwittingly been endowed with a tail by some Caitains. They weren't supposed to talk about that, it had been a one-time thing, a complete accident, and a massive source of embarrassment for the good country doctor. Spock was amused, Kirk could tell, but Spock hid it like a Vulcan. It helped Kirk feel a bit better; joking around like nothing was wrong and knowing Spock found it funny- even if he hid it really well.

The Cygnians were a _fascinating_ species- as Spock put it- culturally, biologically, historically. They were descendants of the familiar Caitains (yes, the same felinoid species that had endowed Bones with his tail). Culturally, they had split from the Caitains due to an early civil war long ago. The Cygnian officials refused to go into detail concerning the event, and for the sake of benevolence, Kirk and Spock didn't push it. They just sat respectfully on the floor across from where the Cygnians curled up on pillows dressed in elaborate, colorful beaded chains and drapes. Kirk and Spock listened attentively as the felinoids spoke about rituals, holidays, religion, and the matriarchy government.

Physically, they looked very similar to the Caitains (whose anatomy Kirk happened to be _intimately_ familiar with), however their species was completely covered in fur which varied in color by the individual. Because they'd yet to interbreed with other humanoid species, they retained very cat-like features- a small snout, sharp teeth, paws with opposable thumbs, large ears that moved to convey emotions, even the filmed eyes to see in the dark. Their hind legs were arranged similar to a cat's, but the fact that they stood as bipedals gave their lower body a more…kangaroo-like appearance in Kirk's eyes. In his history, the Captain had lain with some adventurous species, but if he slept with one of these Cygnians…would that be borderline bestiality? He figured that was all perspective. They _were_ a sentient species, so it technically wasn't zoophilia since they weren't mindless animals- they could give consent.

He quickly pushed those thoughts away. What was he even considering? Was he really that desperate?

…Not that they weren't attractive…for Cat-People… Just, wow, that was highly inappropriate.

Once Kirk and Spock had mastered the customary greeting gestures and learned how to address the officials from other Cygnian nations on the international board, they said farewells to their mentors, releasing them to far more important matters. Spock turned to Kirk as soon as the door closed, "After the meeting, I believe it would be highly educational and gratifying if you'd allow me to gather data on this artificially generated Troposphere and how it affects the lifeforms, the weather, and inadvertently the geology of this planet," he said, straightforward as always.

_Gratifying_. Kirks' internal Spock-translator picked up on the emotion behind that diction like a honing beacon. "Wow, Spock, were you even paying attention or just fantasizing about rocks and flowers this whole time?" he said, giving a weak flirting smile. He didn't have the energy to be very genuine, but he at least wanted Spock to know he was putting in the effort.

"Mr. Chekov's fascination with this planet's environment was rightfully placed," Spock said in simple confirmation. He glanced at Kirk and unfolded his legs, sitting up straighter to perform the most difficult greeting they'd learned, a sort of fanciful twisting motion of the wrists couple with some finger flourishes. "And yes, I was granting my avid attention," he explained needlessly.

Kirk's grin became softer and fond. He'd never specifically had a hand fetish; he'd appreciated skilled fingers, but no more than any other skilled body part. With Spock though, he secretly loved watching those hands move. He broke his gaze away and addressed the obvious question he was presented. "I'm sure the crew would appreciate taking our shore leave here. They always like to get off the ship…can't allow that at a starbase." Kirk was interrupted by a banging noise upstairs- some kind of altercation taking place that caught his attention. He glanced up at the ceiling for a moment. Spock did as well. When their attention met silence, he continued on hesitantly, "I'm already in enough trouble with command for skipping out on our supplies appointment so what's one more little unannounced breach in procedure-" Another loud crash from upstairs drew their attention again, Kirk paused again before continuing , keeping his eyes on the ceiling. "Yeah, Spock, I think I can give you time to get some data," he concluded.

"Thank you, Captain," Spock said.

Kirk gave a gratified smile, but a loud crashing at the gold-plated door behind him forced a flinch and he was immediately moving into a defensive position, hands guarding his chest. The door jolted on its hinges, muffled shrill voices erupting from behind it. Kirk stayed seated on the floor, feeling a clench in his stomach. He knew who's voice that was.

As did Spock apparently. The Vulcan rose to his feet and put a hand on Kirk's shoulder, giving a reassuring squeeze before moving across the room to answer the door. The talk was inevitable and they both knew it. There was no sense in putting it off, so Kirk didn't protest.

Spock opened the door. And, Winona was fighting with the Andorian crew member Kirk had spoken with, hair-pulling, scratching, going all-out, "He has to know!" she was screaming. "You haven't told him shit!"

They both fell silent when they realized the door had opened and they were being held under the scrutiny of a Vulcan's stare. Spock, ever the face of composure held an arm out to welcome Winona into the room, "If there is something you wish to share with your son, do so now."

Winona threw a glare to the Andorian and let herself in. Spock nodded to the Science Officer in gratitude, dismissing her and closing the door behind Winona who was already approaching Jim like a lion to a downed gazelle. He flinched back when she thrust a rolled up sheet of paper- like old, real paper- at him. "What's this?" he demanded.

She unrolled it, pursing her lips and holding it up in front of him to read. George's will. Jim skimmed over it for a minute, but Winona grew impatient quickly and pointed to a specific spot on the parchment, "Peter," she explained. "George wrote you in as the Godfather to all his kids."

"What!" Kirk pushed the paper away, "No, no no no! He wouldn't do that, he hadn't spoken to me in fourteen years!"

"He did it!" Winona snapped, "It's right here, in ink."

"I can't do it."

A beat. "Then who's gonna raise Peter, Jim?" Winona's hands fell to her hips, crinkling the will in her fist.

"I'm not!" Kirk insisted, earning an exasperated look from his mother. "I can't raise Peter! You do it, you're his grandmother."

"You're his uncle," she countered. "And his Godfather."

Jim faltered. He hadn't known. He'd never imagined that George would still even _think_ about him, let alone entrust a child to him. That made his argument much more difficult. "…I didn't sign those papers. He doesn't even know me."

"He knows you," her voice was raising stiffly. "You're his hero. Now's a good time to introduce yourself."

"I can't stay with him, mom. If I talk to him, he'll want me to stay."

"He will," she agreed with a nod. "And you should."

"You know I'm not leaving the _Enterprise_." Kirk said incredulously. "I'm not quitting my job to raise my nephew!"

"You think _I_ want to quit to take care of him? Why should I have to quit my job to raise a boy? Is it because I'm a _woman_?!"

"What would that have to do with anything?" Jim demanded, honestly perturbed by what gender would have to do with childcare. "No, Ma, you're the one who said you wanted him raised as a Kirk, and it won't be me. I'm not quitting my Captaincy."

Then don't quit! We'll live on the Enterprise. I'll take care of him while you're on shift, you take him off my hands when you're off-duty."

"I'm _Captain_," Jim countered incredulously. "I'm off-duty when I'm sleeping- and even then I'm on call."

"Then just give us a place to live."

"Live in George's house on Deneva."

"That's his parents' home, Jim!" Winona said, lip curling with obvious disgust. "His parents are dead, he'll remember them in that place. Don't be so insensitive!"

"You're not bringing a pre-teen on my ship," Kirk said, incredulous. Her imposing expression didn't shift and he felt her expectations on him. He was tempted, as usual, to give her what she wanted, but he glanced at Spock who was obviously with him on this. And yeah, Jim felt like an asshole for rejecting his own family, but the _Enterprise_ was an exploratory vessel. By definition, the entire ship was a dangerous place to be. There was no place that was safe when a sorcerer's cat could make a voodoo doll of the ship and slowly cook the entire crew over a candle flame. There were just too many unknown factors in space travel to bring a minor on board. "No. End of story. We're not raising Peter on a starship."

"Your father and I had planned to raise _you_ on one!"

"Right, and look how awesome _that_ turned out."

And, that was too far. The hurt wasn't obvious on Winona Kirk's face, she didn't wince as though she were stabbed in the heart. But, she closed off. Jim could feel it coming; he'd pushed her into defensive-mode, where she was at her most dangerous, where she said things that would give Starfleet psychologists a field day. She fixed her deceptively level gaze on Spock. "Could we have a moment please?" she said pleasantly.

Part of Jim wanted to grab Spock's arm and hold him here as protection- so her words wouldn't get too cutting. Though, Spock's presence probably wouldn't deter her from getting hurtful- maybe he just wanted him here for moral support. But, logically, he wanted to keep Spock's respect and he frankly didn't want his first officer hearing what she had to say. The Vulcan was staring at him quizzically- asking without words whether the Captain was comfortable being alone with his mother right now. So, he returned the look and gave stiff a nod, "It's fine. Just stand outside. Don't go far."

Spock inclined his head, his eyes lingering on the Captain in some semblance of concern. But, he left without protest, followed by two generations of Kirks' eyes.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Spock, "His family's death is on your hands, Jim," Winona said. Jim cringed, expecting that. Winona pushed on. "I told you not to go into that nest and what'd'you do? You go into the nest. You disturb the careful balance- like you always do."

"I didn't know what I was dealing with, but there wasn't time to take every precaution-"

"That's your excuse?!" she shouted, livid. "You're _alive_ because of your father's sacrifice, and you've gotten your brother killed! How many more will I lose because I have you? How-"

"Stop," Jim pleaded, "Mom, _please_."

"Jim, I'm not raising another boy on my own!"

Jim choked out a bitter, desperately hysterical laugh, "Yeah, like you raised me! You dumped me on anyone who'd take me off your hands!"

"You don't know what you were like after George left? How many men left me because they couldn't put up with your bullshit while I was working and trying to support you- and bail you out of prison on a monthly basis? You were an expensive kid. I _needed_ a Commander's pay, I _needed_ the job I had, and I _needed _Frank and Marcus and Johnson to take care of you. But, it was like your _mission_ to drive them away. You made it so difficult to leave you at home. I didn't get to raise you the way I wanted. And now you've lost me my son!" She was hysterical, younger-looking in her madness than Jim had seen her in years, and speaking like Jim wasn't _also_ her son. "The least you can do is help me finish raising the boy you orphaned. He's going to be raised by a Kirk, but don't you _dare_ put it on me!"

Jim wasn't sure whether he was furious or wounded, but either way his blood was pumping. If this was anyone but his mother, he'd throw back some witty comment about how she'd never put the _effort_ in to raise him, how she'd dumped him on his step-fathers during the school year and left them behind to keep her job with Starfleet- how she never asked to talk to _him_ when she checked in, so she never knew what those men were like when she was gone. He'd throw her own part in George's death into the argument, pointing out that she'd brought him to this planet despite knowing about the virus devastating Levinius V and Beta Portalan. Just for shits and giggles, he might through in the part where she'd _blinded him_. If he grew spiteful enough, he might hit the finale explosively with Tarsus IV.

But, it was hard for Kirk to speak without his throat constricting. It made sense to simplify what was happening, it was the same routine as usual- and that made things easier to cope with. This was just another case of Winona unwittingly trying to make her son regret his existence, but this time it was fueled by grief, downright malicious. She didn't mean all this. She'd never say this. She just couldn't mourn and Jim knew that. So, he didn't resent her for putting the blame on him. She needed to put it on someone, and he could console her by letting it be him. "I have responsibilities," he said, voice clipped and hollow.

"You have a responsibility to your _family_," she insisted. "Exploring space isn't worth it. You'll find amazing things, don't get me wrong, you'll probably even save people along the way- whether Starfleet approves of 'playing God' or not. But, it's all the same, Jim. It's all bright and shiny new. It's all the same in its novice. You'll discover things you never imagined, but if you don't discover yourself through family," she jabbed a finger into his chest like it was a sword she could impale him with, "You'll never be worth the body you've got and the life it took to deliver it."

Jim just stared past her, eyes fixing on the lone gray hairs that stuck out stubbornly from her silver blonde frizz. But, she continued, sprouting off obscure metaphors and allusions and ending dramatically with, "Blood runs thicker than water!"

The sound of a door sliding open startled Jim and he turned, stomach turning over in humiliation as he watched Spock re-entering the room. "It was impossible to avoid overhearing," he began apologetically. "But, I believe the accurate quote is "_The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb_." Jim could tell he was suppressing obvious disapproval. "Usage of that quote in the context of valuing genetic family over friends, is in fact a manipulative bastardization. The original quote denotes a higher value in relationships forged by choice and resembling a brotherhood."

Winona's brows knit and she gaped, having nothing to respond with.

"With all due respect, Commander Kirk, James's responsibilities are rooted in the lives of the four-hundred and thirty-nine crewmembers on board the _Enterprise_. To bring an adolescent aboard the ship would be a massive hazard onto his life- a risk that neither of us approves of."

"He's the godfather-" Winona protested.

"A final request of the father," Spock agreed, "However, not a legally-binding contract of obligation." He retrieved the parchment of the will carefully from Winona's hand and folded it neatly, smoothing out the crinkles with pale graceful fingers. "Regrettably, this is not a responsibility Captain Kirk is capable of undertaking at this time. So, I would suggest you take this opportunity to raise Peter as your son in the way you 'wanted' to raise James."

Again, Winona seemed at a loss for words, realizing she was being rejected. Kirk was slack-jawed in just the same way as his mother, but in a state of grateful shock. Spock was standing by his Captain, defending him against his mother as no one ever had before. And maybe the circumstances weren't preferable- maybe he hated abandoning Peter like this, but Winona simply couldn't blame him for George's death and force him to adopt his son when he had a Starship to captain. Having the extra voice on his side convinced his mother to let off as he had never been able to convince her to do with just his voice alone. And Jim stared at his First Officer, eyes falling to his lips. What would they taste like? He'd considered it before- too many times to justify. But, he'd never actually had a good excuse to kiss Spock. This felt like a good excuse. Plus Spock called him 'James'…and fuck, that usually pissed him off, but from Spock it deserved a kiss. He imagined how he'd do it- preferably against a wall.

"If you have no further protests," Spock was saying, drawing Jim's eyes away from his lips and to his mother whom he was addressing, "We have a meeting to attend."

Right, meeting first…ravaging Spock against a wall to blow off steam could wait…

…

**International High Council: Theta Cygni XII (Gregorian date: January 27, 2261/ Galactic Stardate: -52403.95923)**

But, the meeting turned out to be extremely boring and long. The lack of tails passed by the Cygnians, and they didn't seem to be offended- rather they pitied the poor humanoids. Kirk started out the engagement by formally thanking the planet's officials for their sacrificial efforts to prevent the spread of the virus- even if those efforts resulted in a massive loss of life. Then, the real discussion began, and it took several hours for all of the officials to finally concur that the planet would indeed submit candidacy- their form of democracy required all female officials to agree unanimously. Then, they insisted on waiting the remaining ten hours to receive confirmation that the cells were dead before they'd actually begin filling out the forms. In the meantime, it became an exchanging of paperwork really- and by 'paperwork' of course that meant data files, but still. It was all preliminaries. Setting up a planet to submit candidacy into the Federation was one of the biggest pains in the ass of a Captain. It didn't help that Theta Cygni XII had a totally separate system of recording information electronically. It took Spock and Kirk's combined programming efforts- a formidable force- several hours just to reconfigure PADDs to handle the transfer.

And, it _really_ didn't help that it was difficult for Kirk to talk or even look at Spock knowing that he'd heard everything his mother had said. It was humiliating. Spock never needed to know what Kirk's mother was like- he'd never intended for him to know.

They left the council in good faith that, once ten hours had passed, Theta Cygnia XII would fill out the forms and send them off to Starfleet Headquarters as instructed.

Walking back to the beaming site, Kirk suggested they take the long route and see this new city, promising Spock he'd stop to let him take readings on the Tricorder along the way. It was a different city this time, in a country on a separate continent. The structure of the buildings was blocky here, and plated in copper and blue mossy patches. Kirk hadn't forgotten his plans to nut-up and finally get a thorough taste of his First Officer. He was pretty confident that he could pass a little make-out session off as a healthy response to being 'emotionally compromised'. After all, he'd let Spock nearly choke him to death when he'd lost his mother. And though the two losses didn't really equate, this would certainly be a more pleasurable emotional outlet. Jim needed to do _something. _Spock would understand. It wouldn't have to change anything- Jim was sure of it.

So, they walked around the city in companionable silence. Kirk was still a little humiliated by his mother, but it felt like all the more reason to act impulsively around Spock, like maybe he could cover it up by shoving his tongue down the Vulcan's throat? An infallible plan.

But, every time they stopped at the corner of a block so Spock could take out his Tricorder, Kirk hesitated and procrastinated, promising to do it the next time they stopped. He'd just stare at the broad of Spock's back, thinking about it harder and harder, then remembering what his mother said '_you disturb the careful balance- you always do'_. What if it was a 'careful balance' between him and Spock? He didn't want to disturb what they had going for them. He was so close to that well-oiled machine that he'd seen in Spock Prime's memories. He wanted that so badly. But he also wanted to lick Spock's lips…choices, choices. It didn't feel like a decision- it felt like he could have both. But, who was he to chance it?

So they walked on, and Kirk just longingly watched his First Officer taking notes on the readings he received, engrossed in his work. A few Cygnian citizens had emerged from their homes to begin the clean-up effort of this city. Others were transporting the previously infected outside to soak up the UVC still radiating from the satellites. Kirk did a little observation of them as well when he and Spock were on the move.

Four blocks out from the outpost, the smell hit Kirk's senses.

Corpses. Nearby.

He'd recognize that smell anywhere…

His legs started going numb as they continued on, and rounding a corner they saw it and Kirk froze. Cygnians were leading their infected loved ones outside. The faces of the sick were contorted in pain, but they walked on silently to the center of the street where a hole in the pavement dropped down into the underground railway system- temporarily out of use due to the scourge. Occasionally they'd keel over and two felinoids would grab them by the arms and drag them the rest of the way to the pit. Others stepped down into the pile and stood there to die as the UVC burned down on them.

"I presume the Cygnian hospitals reached their capacity," Spock mused, forcing his voice calm. "These citizens know they won't receive treatment, so they are choosing to meet the inevitable ends of their lives in a singular, concentrated place. It's a constructive method to quicken the clean-up effort for city officials. And, by their silence in the face of extreme anguish, I would assume they've been medicated in some manner." Spock had stopped in his tracks with Kirk, keeping their distance. "Quite a reasonable species though I find this a drastic measure."

Spock was talking, but Kirk heard only muffled tones. The smell… He couldn't take the stench of death, couldn't go where it took him. His breath was falling short, and he knew what was coming, he knew the pictures would move in his head, consume reality. _Blood trickling through cobblestone cracks, crying children- one with no hands, nooses, shooting lines, furnaces, gangs, murdering, bodies piled up in the streets stinking and mangled- avoid the piles the piles meant execution centers._ Panic clenched over his chest, constricting his lungs. Part of him knew the routine of a panic attack, knew- logically- that there was really no pertinent danger at this pile, that this was a just mass grave of virus victims being expelled from their houses to be burnt later, not an omen that he needed to flee from executioners or informants. But it was the smell that triggered it. It was a smell that he could only associate with violence and danger. And, the urge to run was overwhelming. Control was slipping away fast.

Kirk dropped down a bit, gasping, supporting himself with a hand to his knee and the other clenched up at his chest. He gagged for a moment, too frozen to run. He was a Starship Captain, this wasn't something he could let control him anymore. They'd put him through the psyche evaluations and he'd only faked one. He needed to fake it again. Spock was watching. He could do this, it'd been a long time since he'd practiced- the _Enterprise_ didn't often encounter large quantities of dead bodies-, but he could do this…just like at the academy.

Kirk forced himself upright and brought the hand on his knee to his stomach, pressing on his diaphragm. He concentrated on his hands and the feeling of them on his chest, bringing in a slow breath and narrowing everything down to the feel of a heartbeat. The hand over his stomach rose. After five beats, he breathed out and tried to relax his muscles without blacking out. He closed his eyes for a moment and curled his toes tightly, unrolling them and moving up his legs, clenching the muscles and releasing until he was back in his own body in the present.

"Captain?" Spock was behind him now, holding arms out poised like he wanted to hold Kirk up.

Kirk just waved him off, "It's okay," he said, forcing a breath. Spock put a hand against his back and instead of shoving it off, Kirk used it like an anchor. "This could've been much worse," he said avoidantly.

"Your heartbeat is elevated by human standards," Spock observed. He moved around the Captain to see his face, "And pupils dilated thirty-percent. I believe we should find a place to rest-"

"I'm fine."

"Evidence would suggest otherwise."

"Spock," Kirk snapped, "I'm _fine_." He didn't want to sit down and talk about this with the smell of death everywhere in a fifty-meter radius. "Let's just get back to the ship. I wanna check on Engineering." That was a lie. He wanted to drink himself unconscious. He deserved that.

…

* * *

**Location: Grayson Residence, Riverside, Iowa: August 2, 2011 (Federation Stardate: 2011.59/ Galactic Stardate -281886.0435)**

Sometimes, if the night sky was clear enough, and the moon stayed behind the earth long enough, the road merged into the blackness of the sky and Jim's nightly jog suddenly became a liftoff into space- the blacktop becoming a runway for take-off. So he chased the stars, the faster he ran the closer he felt to flying.

He wanted to join those stars. There was someone out there calling him like a beacon, a beacon he longed to answer.

Jim tried to tell his brother over the phone, but it was impossible to explain without sounding crazy. Bones would respond like he understood though, talking about the need for connectivity and how it was an innately human trait. He'd go on rants in his southern Georgia accent about his psychology major friends at the university. He talked about the projects he was helping them with, some study comparing the human nervous system to fungi. Apparently they thought that, like a fungus, the human nervous system could be connected to another's through electrical impulses. They hadn't made any impressive headway yet, but Jim believed in the concept- he'd believe anything Bones told him about medicine.

But this didn't feel like a natural desire to be part of a composite. It felt like he was already part of something else. He didn't belong here. He belonged in some other place. He didn't know where or how, but he figured he'd understand eventually.

Amanda had it figured out. All the specifics. She got the images, the faces, the places, and she drew them meticulously onto sheets of printer paper. Jim was sure she had names and dates too, but she wouldn't talk about the 'dreams'. She forbade him from bringing it up at all. She put the pictures away in her closet when he asked. Avoidance wasn't like her.

Jim was stuck with just vague feelings, a couple blurry faces, or voices- not the complete scenes Amanda was getting. Sometimes, he'd have wispy hallucinations when he was running, like someone was right beside him keeping pace. He liked that hallucination, it made him feel like the missing person was there, cheering him on to take off.

His dreams could be as vivid as reality sometimes, but they always woke him up too early and he fell back to sleep, forgetting them by morning. It left a hallow feeling during the day. He got one prominent face, but it honestly just looked like a younger version of the man Amanda had drawn. Bones showed up in a lot of the dreams too, and those things combined made Jim think maybe the dreams were just imagined things. They might be vivid as memories, but maybe he had made them up unconsciously. It wasn't like they actually could've happened if all he could remember was Bones and a man's face that looked like the Prince in Amanda's pictures. But, Jim remembered seeing the same face with the dark eyes and angled brows even when he was blind. He would've had no way of basing it off Amanda's picture if he couldn't see it. He wasn't sure about a lot of things, but he knew he needed to remember these dreams.

"When you wake up from the dream, write down what you remember," Nyura suggested one afternoon after school, propping her feet up on Jim's desk. She said it like it was obvious- she had a way of doing that and making Jim feel like an idiot.

She was one of Grogan's friends- a brunette with a prominent nose, wide forehead, high cheekbones, tan skin, and a peculiar, robust kind of beauty. She ate with them at the lunch table recently. Grogan had the honor of introducing her to Jim, and she was just as much of a genius as Scott Grogan and Jim were. Grogan was a math prodigy, could calculate fractals as a freshman, was president of the math honors team now, and had placed out of two levels of high school math so he was with the seniors now. Nyura was Ukrainian. Her name meant 'graceful' in her native language. It was oddly fitting. Her family had raised her in Kenya before sending her to a primary school in Saudi Arabia. She spoke five languages fluently and was learning three more in school. Jim had wrangled her into joining the Cross-Country team with him.

"I can try," Jim conceded to her advice, "I usually forget as soon as I sit up though."

Nyura spun in the chair, facing the wall and scrutinizing half-finished mural of the Deathstar exploding. She narrowed her eyes and thought for a moment, twisting a finger in her long hair. "Do you have a dream journal?"

Jim nodded. "I can't get to it in time, as soon as I move I lose everything."

She smirked a little, "Take Vitamin B6 supplements. They aide memory…" she teased.

Jim blew her off after that and they shifted the topic to homework and the Cross-Country tryouts coming up in a week. She left after an hour had passed to meet up with Scott at the park. Jim stayed home to help Amanda in the garden like he did every afternoon- they'd gotten a lot of Gooseberries that summer to make into jam.

Nyura's advice seemed a little redundant and unhelpful. Jim did start taking B6 pills though.

…

**Location: Grayson Residence, Riverside, Iowa: August 5, 2011 (Federation Stardate: 2011.60/ Galactic Stardate -281886.9956)**

_ Smooth friction, hot skin, lips searing to the side of his neck, cherishing him. He writhed beneath this large, solid body, grabbing for purchase, gasping for breath. That familiar face- dark eyes, dark hair- now hovering above him with that calm façade broken in rapture. Hips beat a rhythm into his body, their own flavor of music, the sweet and melodious collision of skin. They were so connected, mind and body. He'd never been so in love- so loved in return. They synchronized every wave of thought, every roll of hips undulating in unison. This was it, where he belonged. The universe nodded in approval. Twin stars recognized their love had been outdone. Jim grabbed onto his partner's neck, pulling him in for a familiar kiss. A jolt of riotous sensation deep inside Jim's pelvis jerked him- _

Awake.

Panting and sweaty, Jim didn't dare move, lest he forget that dream. But he was sticky.

Wait. Sticky?

He lifted the bedsheets and glanced down at his pajama bottoms by the moonlight seeping into the window. Well, that was a first.

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_**Note: **I'm typically using 'Kirk' in the 23rd century (unless another Kirk is there to make things confusing like Winona) and 'Jim' in the 21st. I'm also not changing the rating until I go into strenuous description of anatomy.  
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_Also, please drop me reviews, guys. I've gotten great feedback so far, and I have plenty of great followers I appreciate, but only a few amazing people who I can rely on for comments._

_I don't like to ask for reviews, but I know a lot of people choose whether or not to get started on a fic by how many comments and favorites it's gotten. This story's intimidating in length and I feel like seeing less than 7 comments per chapter is a big turn-off. _

_For where this story's going, and the emotional chords I'll be striking in myself by writing this, I'd like to have a big audience when we hit the sad parts. So, please, for publicity and feedback, tell me whatcha think- or better yet, tell other people about the story- especially now that things are finally heating up._


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